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KATE  CLAEENDON: 


OE, 


BY  EMERSON  BENNETT, 

AUTHOR  OF  "CLARA  MORELAND,"   "THE  FORGED  WILL,"   "THE 

PIONEER'S  DAUGHTER,"  " WALDE-WARREN,"  "VIOLA," 

"BRIDE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


This  is  a  beautiful  romance,  and  one  that  will  never  fail  to  please  the  reader.  The  scone  is 
laid  on  the  bank  of  the  beautiful  Ohio,  some  five  or  six  miles  above  Cincinnati,  at  a  time 
when  that  now  great  city,  contained  only  a  few  log  cabins,  and  when  the  great  forests, 
stretching  away,  on  either  hand,  were  alive  with  wild  beasts  and  murderous  savages.  As 
a  faithful  picture  of  the  early  times,  when  danger  hung  upon  every  step  of  the  bold  pio- 
neer, it  cannot  be  excelled.  The  description  of  the  scenery  is  accurate:  and  thousands, 
since  reading  the  work,  have  been  induced  to  visit  the  spot  where  the  scene  is  located^ 
and  have  viewed  it  with  all  the  interest  of  classic  ground.  The  characters,  too,  are  drawn 
from  real  life.  Kate  Clarendon — one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  fascinating  beings  ever 
described — is  a  fictitious  name;  but  there  are  many  old  pioneers,  now  living,  wlio  can 
point  out  the  original.  Never  was  a  more  strange  and  impressive  character  drawn,  than 
Blind  Luther,  the  Necromancer;  and  the  reader  hardly  knows  whether  most  to  fear,  re- 
verence, or  love  him.  The  sale  of  this  book  has  been  unprecedented  in  the  aunals  of 
Westera  Literature,  and  no  romance  reader  should  be  without  it.  It  has  already  reached 
the  tenth  edition. 


|]  l)Uair^l|3l)xa: 
T.    B.    PETERSON    AND    BROTHEKS, 


Entered  accnHing  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18r)4,  Ly 

E  I\I  E  R  SOX     B  E  N  X  E  T  T, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States, 
in  and  for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


^ 


A-  n 


©W    ©D[i^©0[^[J^^'irDs, 

IN   MEMORY    OF    DAYS    ^ANG    SYNE, 

THIS     WORK 

Ss  lEsrrihi,  lit[  Ijih  /ri^nir, 

THE    AUTHOR. 


rrif>Krf:^y^'t^ 


!Vi50 


>v1 


CONTENTS. 


*  *••  * 


CHAPTER  I. 

PASS 

The  Scene, 7 

CHAPTER   II. 
Kate  and  the  Necromancer, 13 

CHAPTER   in. 
The  Clarendons, 28 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Rivals  and  the  Race, 33 

CHAPTER   Y. 
The  VilIiAIN  Unmasked, 48 

CHAPTER   VI. 
The  Prophecy  Fulfilled, 63 

CHAPTER   VII. 
.  The  Burial, 81 

CHAPTER   VIIL 
The  Dream  and  the  Necromancer, 88 

CHAPTER   IX. 
The  Lovers, 98 

CHAPTER   X. 

The  Wedding  and  the  Attack, 108 

(5) 


6  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   XL 

PAGS 

The  Pursuers, 1^9 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Renegade  and  nis  Captive, 129 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  Necromancer  again, 141 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
More  Mystery, 151 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Chasm, 161 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  Camp  and  Council  of  the  Foe, 171 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
A  Search  for  the  Body, 178 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
The  Renegade  and  his  Fair  Captive, 190 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
The  Indians  and  their  Prisoners 199 

CHAPTER   XX. 
The  Refusal, 208 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
The  Council  and  the  Doom, 214 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Rescue  and  the  Execution, 226 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 
Conclusion, 238 


KATE    CLARENDON: 


OR, 


f^xy*ei©ISilS/©T  IH  THS  WIS7BIIEI\?SS§Q 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE    SCENE. 

Change  is  written  on  the  tide — 

On  the  forest's  leafy  pride  ; 

All,  where'er  the  eye  can  rest, 

Show  it  legibly  imprest. — Rev.  J.  H.  Clinch. 

Ox  the  banks  of  the  beautiful  Ohio,  some  five  or  six 
miles  above  the  large  and  flourishing  city  of  Cincinnati, 
can  be  seen  the  small  and  pleasant  village  of  Columbia, 
once  laid  out  and  designed  to  become  the  capital  of  the 
great  West.  This  village  stands  on  a  beautiful  plain — 
■\vhich  stretches  away  from  the  Ohio,  in  a  north-easterly 
direction,  between  two  ridges,  for  a  goodly  number  of 
miles — and  at  the  base  of  what  is  termed  Bald  Hill — a  hill 
of  a  conical  shape,  from  the  summit  whereof  you  can  com- 
mand every  point  of  compass,  and  some  of  the  most  de- 
lightful views  in  the  western  country. 

Standing  upon  this  hill,  with  your  face  toward  the  south, 
you  first  behold,  immediately  below  you,  a  cluster  of 
dwellings,  mostly  white,  with  their  green  lawns  in  front, 
and  their  flow^ery  gardens  in  the  rear,  with  one  or  two  neat, 
unostentatious  looking  churches  rising  above  them,  as  if  to 

(7) 


KATE   CLAEENDOX. 


give  a  quiet  and  moral  beauty,  if  we  may  so  express  it,  to 
the  scene.  Beyond  these  buildings,  which  constitute  the 
principal  village  of  Columbia,  the  eye  at  once  falls  upon 
an  open,  variegated,  and  fertile  plain,  over  which  it  wan- 
ders for  something  like  a  mile,  to  rest  again  for  a  moment 
upon  a  few  brick  and  wood-colored  houses,  half  hid  amid 
a  grove  of  beautiful  trees,  then  upon  the  smooth,  silvery 
Ohio,  which  here  comes  sweeping  past  with  a  graceful 
bend,  and,  lastly,  upon  the  green  and  romantic-looking 
hills  of  old  Kentucky.  Turning  to  the  left,  or  eastward, 
you  behold,  some  mile  or  two  miles  distant,  a  woody  ridge, 
which  intersects  the  Ohio  at  right  angles,  and,  stretching 
away  northward,  forms  the  eastern  boundary  of  the  plain. 
At  the  base  of  this  ridge,  can  be  seen,  here  and  there,  a 
quiet  farm-house,  and  portions  of  the  Little  Miami,  as  it 
rolls  its  silvery  waters  onward  through  a  most  delightful 
grove,  to  unite  with,  and  be  lost  in  the  placid  bosom  of  La 
Belle  Riviere.  Between  you  and  the  Little  Miami,  and 
for  many  a  mile  up  toward  its  source,  lies  the  plain  we 
have  mentioned  ;  now  divided,  as  far  as  you  can  see,  into 
lots  of  four  or  five  acres  each ;  all  of  which,  being  under 
cultivation,  present,  in  the  summer  season,  with  their  dif- 
ferent products,  a  pleasing  variety  of  colors,  as  if  to  en- 
chain the  attention  of  the  beholder  with  an  unspeakable 
sensation  of  delight.  Following  the  course  of  the  plain 
away  to  the  north-east,  you  behold,  some  few  miles  dis- 
tant, another  pleasant  village,  with  its  neat,  white  houses 
peeping  from  among  the  green  foliage  of  the  surrounding 
trees.  Turning  again  to  the  south  and  west,  and  follow- 
ing the  windings  of  the  Ohio,  you  can  perceive  the  village 
of  Fulton  along  its  banks,  some  two  miles  away,  with  here 
and  there  an  elegant  mansion,  all  standing  out  in  bold  re- 
lief against  the  green  background  of  a  neighboring  ridge, 
and  not  unfrequently  finding  themselves  mirrored  in  the 


THE    SCENE.  9 


river's  placid  bosom.  A  view  of  the  delightful  city  of 
Cincinnati  is  here  cut  oiF  by  a  bend  in  the  ridge  and  river ; 
but  notwithstanding,  the  landscape,  taken  as  a  whole,  is 
one  of  the  most  pleasing  that  can  be  found  on  the  globe. 

Such  is  an  outline,  only,  of  the  scene  which  is  presented 
to  the  beholder  of  modern  days  ;  but  very  different  was  it 
sixty  years  ago,  when,  along  the  banks  of  the  river  and 
over  the  plain  and  hills,  instead  of  the  quiet  village  and 
its  hum  of  civilization,  and  the  many  pleasant  farms  un- 
der cultivation,  and  the  farm-houses  sending  up  in  graceful 
wreaths  the  smoke  of  their  peaceful  fires,  there  was  a  vast, 
unbroken  forest,  inhabited  by  the  barbarous,  untutored 
savage,  and  the  thousand  wild  beasts  of  the  wilderness. 
As  it  is  with  the  early  settlement  of  this  portion  of  the 
country  we  have  to  do,  we  must  leave  the  scene  as  it  now 
exists,  and  go  back  to  the  period  when  the  hardy  pioneer 
left  his  comfortable  and  well-protected  home,,  to  venture 
hither,  and  dare  all  the  dangers  and  suffer  all  the  priva- 
tions of  frontier  life. 

As  early  as  November,  1788,  a  party,  consisting  of 
some  twenty  persons,  conducted  by  Major  Benjamin  Stites, 
landed  at  the  mouth  of  the  Little  Miami,  and  began  a  set- 
tlement upon  the  purchase  of  ten  thousand  acres,  which 
the  Major  had  previously  made  from  Judge  Symmes. 
Among  this  party  were  many  whos^  names  afterwards  be- 
came noted  in  history,  and  whose  descendants  still  occupy 
prominent  positions  in  the  community  whereof  they  are 
citizens.  They  were  the  first  adventurers  into  this  region 
of  country,  and  were  a  month  in  advance  of  the  party 
which  landed  at,  and  erected  the  first  log  cabins  on,  the 
present  site  of  Cincinnati.  On  their  arrival,  they  imme- 
diately constructed  a  log  fort,  built  several  cabins  or  huts, 
and  then  proceeded  to  lay  out  the  town  of  Columbia  into 
streets  or  lots,  on  the  plain  we  have  described — believing, 


10  KATE   CLARENDON'. 


at  the  time,  that  it  would  eventually  become  the  great 
capital  of  the  West. 

Beginning  at  Crawfish  Creek,  a  small  stream  which  was 
to  form  the  north-western  boundary  of  the  city,  ascending 
the  Ohio  for  more  than  a  mile,  and  extending  back  from 
the  river  for  three-quarters  of  a  mile,  taking  in  a  portion 
of  what  is  now  called  Bald  Hill,  they  laid  out  the  ground 
in  streets  and  squares.  The  residue  of  the  plain,  be- 
tween this  imaginative  city  and  the  Little  Miami,  and  foi 
three  miles  up  this  stream,  was  cut  up  into  lots  of  four  or 
five  acres  each,  intended  for  the  support  of  the  town  when 
it  should  come  to  maturity.  These  lots  have  since  been 
divided  by  trenches,  and  so  remain  at  the  present  day ; 
and  as  you  view  them  from  Bald  Hill,  one  covered  with 
greensward,  another  with  a  crop  of  wheat,  a  third  with 
corn,  a  fourth  with  oats,  and  so  on,  the  whole  plain  ap- 
pears like  a  many-colored  carpet  of  beautiful  squares. 

The  first  pioneers  of  the  Miami  Bottom  were  soo 
joined  by  others ;  and,  in  the  course  of  a  few  years,  Co- 
lumbia became  quite  a  flourishing  place ;  and,  for  a  time, 
took  the  lead  of  its  sister  towns,  Cincinnati  and  North 
Bend — the  last  since  noted  as  the  residence  of  General 
Harrison.  At  this  period,  these  three  villages,  wuth  the 
exception  of  Marietta,  higher  up  the  river,  were  the  only 
white  settlements  in  Ohio ;  and  as  it  was  more  than  sus- 
pected by  the  inhabitants  of  each,  that  one  of  them  was 
destined  to  become  the  great  emporium  of  the  West,  each 
looked  upon  the  advancement  of  its  neighbor  with  a  jealous 
eye,  and  sought  every  means  to  push  itself  forward  to 
the  grand  desideratum.  For  a  time.  Fortune  seemed  bent 
on  playing  her  pranks,  by  now  favoring  this  one,  now  that, 
and  so  alternately  raising  and  depressing  the  spirits  of 
each ;  but,  at  last,  as  the  world  already  knows,  she 
yielded  the  palm  to  Cincinnati,  by  establishing  there  a 


THE    SCLXE.  11 

fort  and  garrison,  TN-hich  rendered  it,  Tvith  its  natural  ad- 
vantages, a  place  of  greater  security  than  either  of  the 
others,  and,  consequently,  a  more  desirable  location  for 
those  venturing  into  the  "Western  Wilds. 

About   the   period   when   rivalry   between    the    places 
named  was  at  its  height — and  when  the  momentous  ques- 
tion was  pending,  as  to  which  would  be  the  favored  spot 
of  fortune,  the  Queen  City  of  the  West— our  story  opens. 
Columbia,  as  we  said  before,  had  already  made  rapid  ad- 
vances, and  taken  the  lead  of  her  rival  sisters  in  point  of 
business  and  population.     Over  the  broad  plain,  between 
jBald    Hill   and   the  Little    Miami,    were   now    scattered 
some  forty  or  fifty  log  cabins ;  and  at  the  southern  base  of 
this  hill,  on  a  little  knoll — where,  at  the  present  day,  can 
be  seen  a  neat  grave-yard,  v.ith  its  marble  and  sand-stone 
slabs  recording  the  names  of  many  who,  since  then,  have 
gone  to  the  shadowy  realms  of  death — stood   a  rude  sanc- 
tuary, the  first  building  erected  solely  to  the  worship  of  God 
by  the  pioneers  of  the  Miami  Valley.    Around  this  humble 
sanctuary  was  a  grove  of  beautiful  trees,  in  whose  branches 
a  thousand  merry  songsters,  of   all  hues,  sang  blithely. 
Side  by  side  with  this  place  of  worship,  on  the  same  knoll, 
amid  the  same  delightful  grove,  was  erected  a  block-house, 
for  the  protection  of    the   inhabitants  in   the  immediate 
vicinity.     Hither,  on  a  Sabbath    morning,  when  the  toil 
of  the  week  was  over,  the  villagers  of  both  sexes,  and  all 
ages,  would  repair,  to  listen  to  the  word  of  God,  as  it  fell 
from  the  lips  of  the  venerable   Stephen  Cano,  (father  of 
the   late  General    Cano,)   whose    mild,   noble,   benevolent 
countenance,  with  his  long,  white  flowing  locks,  and  his 
solemn,  tremulous  voice,  as  he  raised  his  eyes  to  Heaven 
in  supplication,  or  forcibly  pointed  out  to  his  hearers  the 
way  to  eternal  life,  made  his  remarks  deeply  and  grandly 
irapressive.     And  the  more  so,  it  may  be,  that  each  felt 


12  KATE    CLAREXDOX. 

himself  to  be  in  the  wilderness,  surrounded  by  the  hostile 
savage,  and  knew  not  at  what  moment  he  might  be  called 
to  his  last  account,  a  victim  to  the  fatal  rifle,  or  the  bloody 
tomahawk  and  scalping  knife. 

To  avoid  a  surprise,  and  be  prepared  for  any  emergency, 
during  the  hours  of  worship,  sentinels  were  stationed  with- 
out the  walls  of  the  sanctuary,  who,  with  loaded  rifles  on 
their  shoulders,  paced  to  and  fro  with  measured  tread,  ex- 
amining minutely  every  object  of  a  suspicious  character; 
while  those  within  sat,  with  their  weapons  by  their  sides, 
ready,  at  a  moment's  warning,  a  given  signal,  to  rush  from 
the  house  of  quiet  devotion  to  the  field  of  blood  and 
slaughter.  Not  only  to  church,  but  to  their  places  of 
labor,  where  they  repaired  in  companies,  and,  in  fact,  on 
all  occasions,  the  early  settlers  went  armed. 

Besides  the  block-house  on  the  knoll,  there  were  one  or 
two  others  nearer  the  river ;  and  one  some  half  a  mile 
further  up  the  plain,  close  by  where  now  winds  a  broad 
and  beautiful  turnpike,  and  on  the  site  of  which  now 
stands  a  private  dwelling.  Bald  Hill  (now  owned  by  N. 
Longworth,  one  of  the  wealthiest  gentlemen  in  the  coun- 
try, and  by  him  devoted  to  the  cultivation  of  the  grape,) 
was,  at  the  period  referred  to,  covered  by  a  dark,  dense 
forest,  where  prowled  the  w^ild  beasts,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  lurked  the  murderous  Indian,  seeking  his  "great 
revenge"  on  his  more  civilized  and  less  wily  foe. 

Such,  reader,  is  an  outline  view  of  the  scene  where 
our  story  is  laid,  and  the  condition  of  the  country  at  the 
time  of  its  opening.  Having  said  this  much  of  general 
facts,  we  shall  now  proceed  to  detail. 


CHAPTER    II. 

KATE   AND   THE    NECROMANCER. 

A  LOVELY  being,  scarcely  formed  or  moulded — 

A  rose  with  all  its  sweetest  leaves  yet  folded. — Btrojt. 

Her  eyes,  her  lips,  her  cheeks,  her  shape,  her  features, 
Seem  to  be  drawn  by  Love's  own  hand. — Dryden. 

Strange  being  he. 
Of  whom  all  men  did  stand  in  awe  ;  and  none 
Knew  whence  he  came,  nor  how,  nor  whither  bound, 
Nor  cared  to  question.     Strange  things  he  told, 
And  true — then  disappeared  mysteriously. — Old  Play. 

It  was  a  lovely  day  in  spring,  and  earth  had  donned 
her  raiment  of  many  colors,  and  seemed  smiling  to  the 
■whispering  zephyr  that  softly  floated  over  her.  The 
bright  sun  had  already  passed  the  zenith  of  the  day,  yet 
his  oblique  rays  fell  warmly  upon  the  great  forest  extend- 
ing over  the  Miami  Bottom,  and  pierced  through  the 
foliage,  here  and  there,  down  to  the  earth,  and  kissed  the 
violet,  the  rose  and  the  lily,  and  danced  to  and  fro  to  the 
music  of  the  swaying  branches.  A  thousand  songsters,  of 
all  hues — from  the  bright  red-bird,  the  black-bird,  the 
paroquet  of  green  and  gold,  to  the  white  and  plaintive 
dove — flew  hither  and  thither,  fluttered  among  the  leaves, 
and  pervaded  the  perfumed  air  with  their  melody.  Here 
might  be  seen  the  bear,  sitting  upon  his  haunches,  or 
lazily  crawling  off  to  seek  his  lair ;  there  the  timid  deer, 
daintily  cropping  the  green  herbage,  or,  startled  by  some 
rude  sound,  bounding  away  with  an  unmatched  grace  and 
the  speed  of  the  flying  arrow.  Underneath  the  leaves, 
occasionally,   lay  coiled   the  wily  copper-head,    ready  to 

2  (18) 


14  KATE   CLAREXDOX. 


Strike  his  victim ;  and  the  sound  of  the  rattle-snake 
could  ever  and  anon  be  heard,  giving  the  generous, 
but  if  unheeded,  perchance  fatal,  warning.  Here,  too, 
more  cunning,  more  deadly  than  all  the  dread  beasts  or 
serpents  of  the  forests,  might  peradventure  be  found  the 
swarthy  savage,  with  his  murderous  weapons  in  hand, 
crawling  stealthily  and  silently  onward  to  execute  his 
fell  design  upon  some  innocent  and  unwary  foe  of  his 
race. 

But  for  the  dangers  everywhere  lurking  in  this  forest 
of  beauty,  it  might  have  seemed  a  paradise  indeed,  un- 
surpassed by  that  primitive  Eden  where  man  first  broke 
the  holy  command. 

But  notwithstanding  the  peril  which  surrounded  her, 
which  perchance  lay  hid  behind  each  bush  and  beneath 
each  leaf,  there  was  one,  a  fairy,  beautiful  being,  who 
seemed  to  give  no  thought  to  danger,  as  if  her  own  fair 
self  were  an  amulet  of  safety.  She  was  standing  on  the 
bank  of  the  Little  Miami,  some  two  hundred  rods  above  its 
junction  with  the  Ohio,  her  back  braced  against  a  tall  old 
sycamore,  her  head  bent  a  littlfe  forward,  and  her  eyes, 
those  sparkling  orbs  of  the  soul,  resting  upon  the  dark 
waters  rolling  slowly  onward  before  her — perchance  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  her  own  fair  face,  perchance  to  watch 
the  motions  of  the  finny  tribe,  or  perchance  to  behold  the 
pictures  of  light  and  shade,  which  the  sportive  sunbeams, 
streaming  through  the  rustling  leaflets,  made  upon  the 
glassy  surfiice  of  the  quivering  stream. 

Beautiful  creature  !  how  shall  we  describe  her  ?  how  con- 
vey, by  the  dull  pen,  to  the  optical  sense,  the  etheriality, 
the  reality,  the  sunny  brightness  of  the  being  in  form  di- 
vine before  us  ?  We  can  give  the  outline  of  form — we  can 
describe  the  shape  of  her  features,  the  color  of  her  hair 
and  eyes — ^yet  how  shall  we  convey  the  ever-varying  ex- 


KATE    AXD    THE    ^'ECKOMA^:CER.  15 

pression  of  her  countenance — the  buoyant,  merrj,  sym- 
pathetic, versatile  soul,  i^hich  animated,  and  made  to  differ 
from  others,  the  clayey  tenement  which  it  inhabited  !  We 
cannot — we  despair  of  doing  it ;  and  yet  we  will  do,  to  the 
extent  of  our  ability,  and  let  the  imagination  of  the  reader 
supply  the  deficiency. 

Know  then,  reader,  that  she  whom  we  have  introduced 
to  your  notice,  was  an  angel — not  of  heaven,  but  of  earth ; 
not  pale  and  pensive,  with  wings  upon  her  shoulders,  as 
we  sometimes  see  the  tenants  of  paradise  represented — 
but  full  of  color,  life,  music,  soul — a  bright  being,  calcu- 
lated to  adorn  the  sphere  where  her  lot  was  cast,  and  yet, 
when  done,  to  "shuffle  off  the  mortal  coil,"  and  be  equally 
an  ornament  among  immortals !  Her  age  was  sweet, 
glowing,  imaginative  seventeen ;  that  age  of  all  others  in 
woman,  the  most  peculiar  and  full  of  strange  sensations  ; 
when  she  stands  timidly,  as  it  were,  between  two  periods — 
girlhood  and  womanhood — just  pensively  looking  back  and 
bidding  adieu  to  the  one — just  brightly  looking  before  and 
greeting  the  other :  when,  if  by  chance  she  sees  through 
the  roseeolored  optics  of  love,  me  whole  pathway  before 
her  seems  strewn  with  bright,  unfading  flowers,  and  every- 
thing appears  so  new  and  perfectly  beautiful ;  and  she 
dreams  not  that  serpents,  and  thorns,  and  ashes,  and  coffin- 
palls,  lie  in  her  path,  to  make  her  weep  and  mourn,  and 
siah  for  the  rest  of  the  o-rave  to  which  time  is  bearins:  her. 

Bright,  rosy,  buoyant  seventeen  !  how  many  thousands 
daily  look  back  to  it  with  a  sigh,  as  they  think  of  the  hun- 
dred still  unexecuted  plans  laid  out  for  coming  time,  and 
contrast  their  present  conditions  with  those  they  intended 
to  occupy  !  At  seventeen,  all  is  sweet  indecision,  uncer- 
tainty and  inexperience  ;  and  life  is  then  to  us  only  an 
ever-varying  kleidescope,  where  everything  Ave  behold — 
llo  matter  how  we  twist  and  turn  it  by  pretended  reason — 


16  KATE   CLARENDOX 


is  a  beautiful  flower ;  and  flower  upon  flower,  each  more 
bright,  lovely  and  fascinating  than  the  last ;  and  if  we 
dream  of  change  at  all,  it  is  always  change  for  the  better. 
Happy  seventeen,  then,  was  she  who  stood  leaning 
against  the  old  sycamore — God  keep  her  from  the  cold, 
stinging,  unhappy  experience  of  many  of  her  sex  !  In 
form  she  was  a  beauty — light,  slender,  graceful — full  of 
youthful  elasticity  and  vigor — with  a  well  developed  bust 
— a  small,  white,  plump,  dimpled  hand,  and  a  foot  so  ex- 
quisite, it  might  have  rivalled  that  of  the  dancing  Fanny 
of  modern  days.  Her  features  corresponded  with  hei 
form — were  fine  and  comely,  and  radiant  with  the  glow  of 
health — but  remarkable  for  nothing  save  expression.  Had 
they  been  chisseled  in  marble,  with  the  soul  absent,  they 
•would  not  probably  have  even  excited  a  passing  remark ; 
but  with  the  soul  there — that  ever-varying  soul — they  took 
the  beholder  captive  to  their  charms,  drew  him  forward  as 
the  magnet  draws  the  needle,  held  him  fast  as  the  iron 
chain  the  prisoner.  The  predominant  expression  of  her 
countenance  was  a  bright,  roguish,  girlish  smile,  which 
almost  in'^riably  hovered  around  two  as  pretty  lips  as 
"were  ever  seen,  and  was  a  type  of  her  nature  and  happy 
heart.  The  skin  of  her  features,  though  somewhat  dark, 
was  smooth  and  transparent,  where  every  thought  seemed 
to  make  a  passing  impression,  as  the  light  breeze  upon  the 
still  bosom  of  a  glassy  lake.  Her  cheeks  were  tinted  with 
the  rose,  and  slightly  dimpled ;  and  her  mouth  was  set  with 
a  beautiful  row  of  pearly  teeth.  Her  eyes  were  dark  and 
sparkling,  full  of  vivacity  and  animation;  and  yet  so 
softened,  by  long,  fringy  lashes,  that  it  seemed  as  if  she 
were  eternally  looking  love.  Her  hair  was  a  glossy,  light 
brown  ;  and  now,  when  the  sunlight  fell  upon  it,  (for  her 
hood  was  held  in  her  left  hand,)  it  gave  out  a  bright, 
golden  hue.     On  the  present  occasion,  she  wore  a  loose 


KATE    AND   THE    XECROMAXCER.  17 

ridinf^  dress,  carelessly  arranged,  Trhich,  together  with  her 
partially  dishevelled  hair,  showed  that  her  mind  Y/as  not 
entirely  occupied  with  external  appearances.  In  her  right 
hand  she  held  the  bridle  rein  of  a  sleek,  coal-black  steed, 
from  the  saddle  of  which  she  had  apparently  just  dis- 
mounted ;  and  by  her  side,  lolling  as  if  from  hard  running, 
and  occasionally  looking  up  into  her  sweet  face,  crouched 
a  large,  Newfoundland  dog.  .  For  a  moment  she  stood  gaz- 
ing into  the  limpid  stream,  in  the  position  we  have  des- 
cribed her ;  and  then  giving  her  head  a  shake,  as  if  to 
throw  back  the  ringlets  that  had  fallen  somewhat  forward 
over  her  eyes,  she  turned  to  her  canine  companion,  and,  in 
a  clear,  rin^incr  voice,  as  if  addressincr  an  individual,  said  : 

"  So,  my  Bowler,  you  think  you  have  had  a  hard  chase, 
eh  ?  In  faith,  I  thought  Marston's  legs  would  prove  too 
much  for  you?" 

Here  she  turned,  and  stepping  around  the  tree,  patted 
the  proudly  arched  neck  of  her  horse ;  while  the  dog  arose, 
and  approaching  her,  rubbed  his  head  in  a  familiar  man- 
ner against  her  hand. 

''Ah,  Bowler,  dog,  you  look  tired,"  she  continued, 
stooping  down  and  playfully  caressing  the  brute ;  '•  you 
can  watch,  better  than  keep  Marston's  company — particu- 
larly when  he  is  in  such  fine  running  trim  as  now.  Come, 
Marston,"  she  added,  to  the  beast,  '*  let  us  away  again, 
for  I  trust  you  are  now  refreshed;"  and  as  she  adjusted 
her  dress,  preparatory  to  mounting,  she  struck  out  in  a  full 
Bilvery  voice,  in  the  following 


so^■G. 

"  Cheerilv,  merrilv,  off  we  go, 
Over  hill  and  plain  with  glee. 

And  the  swiftlv  bounding  roe, 
Scarce  can  keep  our  company; 

Swift,  as  arrow  in  its  flight. 

Speed  we  with  a  wild  delight. 


18  KATE   CLAEEXDON. 


*' Horse  and  rider,  linked  in  one — 
Instinct,  reason,  both  combined — 

This  to  guide,  and  that  to  run, 
How  the  breezes  Ing  behind! 

Cheerily,  merril}',  off  we  go, 

Swifter  than  the  bouiidini:!;  roe." 


"  Well  sung,  pretty  Kate  Clarendon,"  said  a  deep,  heavy 
voice  behind  her. 

Kate,  (for  the  fair  being  we  have  described  was  none 
other  than  our  heroine,)  who  was  in  the  act  of  mounting, 
started,  and  wheeled  around,  with  a  look  of  alarmed  sur- 
prise ;  while  the  horse  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  the  dog, 
with  a  savage  growl,  sprung  in  front  of  his  mistress,  ready 
to  defend  her  with  his  life. 

"  Be  not  alarmed,  fair  beinor,"  continued  the  stranc^e 
voice;  and  at  the  same  instant,  a  thick  cluster  of  bushes, 
growing  on  the  bank  of  the  stream,  some  ten  paces  distant, 
was  parted  by  a  large,  sunburnt,  hairy  hand,  and  a  tall, 
athletic,  singular  looking  figure  emerged  therefrom.  To- 
ward him  the  dog  now  sprung  furiously ;  but  the  next  mo- 
ment, and  ere  he  had  gained  half  way  between  his  mistress 
and  the  stranger,  he  dropped  his  tail  between  his  legs,  and 
then  wagging  it,  in  token  of  recognition,  trotted  up  to  the 
other,  as  if  to  solicit  a  caress. 

The  new-comer,  as  we  have  said,  was  a  singular  looking 
bein"-.  In  stature  he  was  tall — beino;  full  six  feet — and  in 
person  very  ungainly.  His  legs  and  arms,  each  very  long 
and  sinewy,  were  joined  to  a  crooked,  bony  body.  Ho  had 
tremendous  breadth  of  shoulder,  from  wdiich  he  tapered 
down  to  his  feet,  in  shape  not  unlike  a  wedge.  His  neck 
was  slim,  but  full  of  large  muscles  and  veins,  which  seemed 
to  stand  out  from  it  like  cords.  His  head  was  rather  large, 
even  for  his  body,  with  features  very  coarse,  and,  to  one 
unacquainted  with  him,  exceedingly  repulsive.  He  had  a 
big,  Roman  nose,  sallow,  sunken  cheeks,  and  a  prominent 


KATE   AND    THE    NECROMANCER.  19 

chin,  covered  with  a  thick,  coarse,  dirty,  grizzly  beard, 
"which  extended  down  even  to  his  broad,  hard,  bronzed 
bosom,  and,  combined  with  his  otherwise  unpleasing  exte- 
rior, gave  him  an  almost  ferocious  look.  About  his  eyes, 
if  indeed  eyes  they  could  be  called,  he  had  a  remarkable 
appearance ;  and  a  stranger,  at  first  sight,  would  have  pro- 
nounced him  totally  blind.  The  lid  of  one  eye  was  closed 
entirely ;  and  that  of  the  other  so  much  so,  as  just  to  leave 
a  dull,  lead-colored  rim  of  the  lower  part  of  the  ball  visi- 
ble. To  add  to  this  disagreeable  appearance,  the  nearly 
closed  lid  quivered  continually,  like  the  leaf  of  the  aspen  ; 
while  the  ball  of  the  eye  rolled  around  in  every  direction,  as 
if  the  owner  were  suffering  mortal  agony.  Above  these 
lids,  across  the  lower  portion  of  a  high,  dark,  wrinkled  fore- 
head, extended  light,  shaggy  brows ;  and  his  hair,  which 
was  also  light,  coarse  and  matted,  came  down  to  his 
shoulders.  He  wore  no  hat ;  but  instead,  a  strip  of  deer- 
skin, painted  white,  on  which  were  some  strange  devices 
in  black,  passed  across  his  brow,  and  around  his  head, 
giving  to  him  an  air  of  mystery.  His  costume  was  as  sim- 
ple as  an  Indian's.  It  consisted  of  a  frock  made  of  deer- 
skin, with  the  hair  outside,  which  was  worn  next  his  body, 
reached  to  his  knee-s,  and  was  tightened  around  his  waist 
by  a  rough  belt.  To  this  frock  were  no  sleeves,  and,  in 
consequence,  his  brawny  arms  were  entirely  naked ;  neither 
did  it  fit  close  around  his  neck,  but  left  a  large  portion  of 
his  breast  bare  also.  On  his  feet  were  moccasins,  which 
completed  his  attire ;  and  in  his  belt,  instead  of  the  usual 
weapons  of  that  day,  was  only  a  long  knife.  Strapped  to 
his  back  was  a  rude  knapsack,  in  which  he  carried  jerk,  a 
blanket,  and  various  implements.  In  one  hand  (the  nails 
of  which  were  very  long,  and  the  back  of  which  was 
thickly  covered  with  hair)  he  held  a  stick  of  witch-hazel, 
at  one  end  of  which  were  prongs,  not  unlike  the  tines  of  a 


20  KATE   CLARENDON-. 


fork.  To  conclude,  the  age  of  this  strange  personage 
might  have  been  forty,  or  perhaps  fifty,  so  difficult  was  it 
to  determine  by  his  rough,  weather-beaten  countenance. 
His  voice  was  very  deep,  a  little  inclined  to  the  sepulchral — 
and  his  language,  ever  good,  was  often  metaphorical. 

Such  is  a  description  of  the  personal  appearance  of  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  individuals  ever  known.     Who  he 
Avas,  or  whence  he  came,  none  could  tell.     Among  the  set- 
tlers of  the  early  times,  he  appeared  mysteriously,  and  as 
mysteriously  disappeared;    and   as   he   pretended   to   be 
gifted  with   second   sight,   or  a  sight  into  futurity,  there 
were  not  wanting  those  superstitious   enough  to  believe 
him  either  a  supernatural  being,  or  one  leagued  with  the 
devil.     This  feeling  he  took  care  to  foster,  by  his  acts ; 
such  as  incantations,  strange  mutterings  to  himself,  occa- 
sionally   a    wild    manner,    and    eccentricities    of   various 
kinds.     In  fact,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that,  in  those 
times,  he  should  excite  a  feeling  of  awe  and  superstition ; 
for  often,  when  thought  far  distant,  would  he  make  his 
appearance  among  a  group  of  individuals,  who  had  per- 
chance  been   conversing   of  him;  and  this  so  suddenly, 
many  times,  as  really  to  alarm  them ;  and  then  again,  ere 
any  one  was  aware  how,  as  suddenly  disappear.     He  was 
sometimes  on  the  pretended  search  for  mines  or  money, 
and  not  unfrequently  did  he  excite  persons  to  dig  for  trea- 
sures.    He  told  fortunes,  occasionally ;  and  occasionally, 
too,  uttered  prophecies  and  prophetic  warnings.     Among 
the  whites  he  came  and  went  as  he  chose ;  and  also  among 
the  savages  ;  who    respected  him  as  a  "  great  medicine" 
and  prophet — to  injure  whom  would  be  to  oifend  the  Great 
Spirit.     By  the   latter   he  was  called  Kitchochobeka,  or 
Great  Medicine;  and  by  the  former,  Blind  Luther,  the 
Necromancer. 


KATE    AND   THE    NECROMANCER.  21 

As  soon  as  Kate  sa^v  his  person  in  full,  she  said,  with  a 
gay  laugh : 

"  Ton  m  J  word,  Luther,  for  once  you  startled  me,  for  I 
deemed  myself  entirely  alone." 

"  "We  are  never  alone,  Kate,"  returned  the  other, 
shaking  his  head  gravely ;  "  the  spirits  of  the  dead  are 
always  with  us." 

"  Oh,  come,  come,"  rejoined  the  fair  girl,  tossing  her 
head  gaily,  though  not  without  a  perceptible  shade  of  un- 
easiness in  her  countenance  :  "  Come,  come,  Luther,  do 
not  seek  to  make  me  superstitious ;  you  can  find  plenty 
of  proselytes  without  me,  you  know.  But  tell  me — how 
long  have  you  been  concealed  in  yon  thicket  ?" 

"As  long  as  it  would  take  you  to  count  ten."  ' 

"  But  how  got  you  there  so  silently  ?" 

"By  my  will,  and  the  wings  of  the  wind." 

"By  your  will,  for  one  thing,  most  undoubtedly  ;  but  as 
to  the  icings  of  the  wind — why,  I  rather,  think  that  a 
joke  of  yours — eh,  my  conjuror?"  and  the  gay  girl  closed 
with  a  laugh. 

•     "  He  to  whom  the  future  is  as  an  open   scroll,  legibly 
written,  never  stoops  to  joke,"  was  the  grave  reply. 

"  And  do  you  really  pretend  to  know  the  future,  in 
sincere  earnest  ?" 

"  Do  you  pretend  to  know  the  voice  of  your  own 
mother,  girl  ?" 

"But  now,"  said  Kate,  in  a  coaxing,  coquettish  tone,  "be 
I  honest,  Luther,  for  once,  now  do,  and  tell  me — have  you 
I  any  faith  in  yourself?  All  in  confidence,  you  know,  be- 
I  tween  you  and  me;  for  of  course  Zwill  never  mention  it. 
Oh,  no,  I  will  give  you  a  proud  example  of  a  woman  keep- 
ing a  secret  ;"  and  the  black  eyes  of  fairy  Kate  sparkled 
"with  a  roguish  expression. 

'' Ynn    •ip«!t.   D-irl."  rpnlifid  thp  nthpiv  snlfimnlv.  and  in  an 


22  KATE   CLARENDON. 

offended  tone,  ''with  the  great  mysteries  of  nature.  Have 
I  faith  in  myself?  Have  you  faith  in  what  j^ou  behold? 
Look  yonder,  and  tell  me  what  you  see !"  and  he  pointed 
with  his  finger  toward  the  great  luminary  of  the  day. 

"I  behold  trees,  and  leaves,  and  birds,  the  sky,  and 
sun,"  answered  Kate,  who  looked  in  the  direction  indi- 
cated by  the  finger  of  the  other. 

''And  do  you  believe  the  things  you  have  named  really 
exist  ?" 

"  Most  assuredly  I  do." 

"  Why  do  you  so  believe  ?" 

"  Because  I  see  them." 

"And  see  you  nothing  more  ?" 

"  Nothhig  of  importance." 

"  I  do,"  rejoined  the  Necromancer,  in  a  guttural  voice; 
so  changed  from  the  tone  in  which  he  had  just  been  con- 
versing, that  Kate  turned  to  him  with  an  involuntry  ex- 
pression of  surprise  and  wonder;  which  was  not  lessened, 
by  observing  him  standing  with  his  gaze  fixed  on  high,  in 
wrapt  meditation  ;  while  every  feature  seemed  expressive 
of  some  strange  sight ;  and  his  lips  moved  as  if  uttering 
words,  though  no  sound  issued  from  them. 

"  And  what  do  you  see,  strange  man  ?"  inquired  the 
maiden,  after  a  minute's  pause,  while  a  thrill  of  myste- 
rious awe  made  her  blood  creep  coldly  through  her  veins. 

"A  century  of  futurity,  and  God  permitting  man  to 
seize  upon  the  elements  and  harness  them  to  his  task," 
answered  Luther,  in  a  solemn  tone.  "  I  behold,  springing 
from  the  earth,  only  a  few  miles  distant,  a  great  city.  I 
behold  the  light  and  smoke  of  its  fires,  and  hear  the  voices 
of  many  thousand  inhabitants,  and  the  clink  of  the  ham- 
mers of  industry,  and  see  it  gradually  spreading  itself, 
enhirn-inir  on  every  hiind.  as  the  eaofle  when  he  raises  his 
wings  to  soar  on  high.     I   behold   the   dust  of  the  earth, 


KATE    AND    THE    NECROMANCER.  23 

put  into  a  great  crucible,  and  lo  !  it  comes  forth  another 
substance.  It  is  seized,  and  wrought  upon,  and  shaped 
like  no  living  thing  that  now  exists ;  and  yet  it  is  to  be  a 
thing  of  life  and  motion,  with  rolling  legs,  and  speed  be- 
yond the  speed  of  the  deer,  endurance  beyond  calculation, 
and  strength  exceeding  a  hundred  horse.  Its  breath,  its 
vitality,  its  soul,  is  vapor ;  and  though  it  travels  with 
tearino-  velocity,  through  mountains,  over  streams,  hollows 
and  plains,  dragging  a  thousand  times  its  ov;n  weight  be- 
hind it,  yet  so  gentle  is  it,  when  properly  handled,  that  a 
child  can  guide  and  command  it ;  but  once  let  it  get  the 
upper  hand,  and  the  strength  of  ten  thousand  men  would 
be  no  more  to  it  than  a  thread  to  a  ship  in  the  gale.  I 
behold,  too,  the  great  timbers  of  the  forest  transformed  to 
leviathans,  whose  vital  power  is  also  vapor,  and  which, 
with  spoutings  that  can  be  heard  afar  off,  glide  swiftly 
over  the  bosom  of  rivers,  against  wind  and  tide,  and  plow 
foaming  channels  in  the  mighty  deep,  and  carry  the  sons 
of  earth  in  their  great  bosoms.  I  behold  the  red  light- 
nincr,  also,  drawn  from  the  thunder-car  of  heaven,  and  sent 
courier  throughout  the  world.  I  behold  the  great  blue 
vault  of  heaven  turned  to  an  ocean,  over  which  sail 
ten  thousand  vessels,  looking  down  upon  forests  and 
mountains,  that  now  to  us  seem  almost  impassable  bar- 
riers. And  I  behold  plague,  and  famine,  and  war,  and 
blood,  and  fire,  and  flood,  and  desolation,  and  woe,  and 
crime,  stalking  apace,  by  whose  dread  calls  and  thunder- 
ings,  thrones  totter,  governments  of  tyrants  are  over- 
thrown, and  liberty  shoots  upward,  like  a  beautiful  tree, 
and  spreads  its  ever-green  branches  abroad  to  the  utter- 
most ends  of  the  earth,  beneath  which  all  nations  at  last 
repose  in  security,  and  smoke  together  the  calumet  of 
peace.     And    the   vision  has    gone   from    me — and   all  is 


24  KATE   CLARENDON. 


darkness— and  I  beliold  no  more — for  the  great  seal  of  ob- 
scurity is  now  set  upon  my  sight." 

During  this  speech  of  Blind  Luther,  his  countenance 
was  lighted  up  with  the  fires  of  an  enthusiastic  soul,  until 
in  part  it  had  the  sublime  look  we  conceive  the  seers  to 
have  had  of  old,  when  they  uttered  those  great  and  mystic 
truths  which  shall  descend  to  all  generations;  and  our 
fair  heroine  gazed  upon  him  in  wonder,  not  unmingled 
with  admiration ;  for  there  was  something  lofty  and  ele- 
vating in  his  manner  and  strange  eloquence.  As  he  con- 
cluded, he  waved  his  hand  with  a  majestic  gesture,  and 
then  turned  suddenly  to  Kate. 

"You  think  me  demented — or  perhaps  an  idiot;  yet 
what  I  have  just  uttered,  is  written  on  the  great  seal  of 
the  nineteenth  century.  You  do  not  understand  it — you 
think  me  an  impostor,  perhaps  ?" 

"No,  Luther,"  answered  Kate,  "not  an  impostor;  but 
I  fear,  at  times,  you  let  a  wild  imagination  get  the  better 
of  your  reasoning  powers." 

"It  is  seldom,"  returned  Luther,  "that  I  condescend  to 
experiment,  in  order  to  convince  frail  mortality  I  am  what 
I  pretend  ;  but  in  the  present  instance  I  shall  do  so ;  as 
it  is  necessary,  for  your  future  welfare,  that  you  believe 
in  me,  and  adhere  to  my  instructions.     Behold  my  power !" 

As  he  concluded,  he  brought  the  fore-finger  of  his  right 
hand  in  front  of  his  face,  and  strode  slowly  toward  Kate, 
who  fixed  her  gaze  upon  him  in  curious  wonder.  When 
he  had  reached  within  a  pace  of  her,  he  paused,  fastened 
his  eye  upon  hers  for  a  moment,  and  said  : 

"  You  are  now  under  the  influence  of  my  spirit.  You 
have  not  power  to  move  a  limb  without  my  consent." 

Kate  made  an  efibrt  to  move,  but  found,  in  truth,  she 
had  not  the  command  of  a  single  muscle.  She  was  like  a 
rock.     Not  even  her  eyes  could  she  turn  away  from  that 


KATE   AND   THE   NECROMANCER.  25 

Strange  being  who  stood  before  her.  For  the  first  time  in 
her  life  she  felt  superstitious — for  the  first  time  in  her  life 
she  secretly  acknowledged  a  power  in  man  beyond  the 
scope  of  reason.  As  she  thought  upon  it  her  blood  ran 
cold,  and  cold  drops  of  perspiration  stood  upon  her  face 
and  body. 

"  And  now  you  believe,"  said  the  Necromancer,  at  length, 
waving  his  hand. 

"I  believe  you  are  a  wonderful  being,"  answered  the 
other,  with  a  shudder. 

''  Yet  fear  me  not,  girl ;  I  am  your  friend.  Open  me  your 
hand." 

Gazing  for  a  few  moments  into  the  soft,  white  palm, 
which  Kate,  in  compliance  with  his  request,  now  extended 
toward  him,  he  said,  solemnly : 

"Eventful  destiny  is  thine — thou  of  the  sunny  locks, 
fairy  form,  and  laughing  eye  !"  And  he  preceded  to  chant 
the  following  mystical  lines  : 

"Where  the  parent  stem  is  broken, 
'Neath  the  tree  that's  old  and  oaken — 
Where  the  night-wind  cool  is  blowing, 
O'er  the  life-blood  warmly  flowing — 
By  unchanging  Fate's  decree, 
And  Almighty  Destiny, 
One  shall  stand  thou  sawest  never. 
Yet  shall  see  and  love  forever: 
And  he  unto  thy  spirit, 
Shall  a  legal  right  inherit : 
Yet  moons  shall  come  and  wane. 
And  the  harvest  leave  the  plain, 
And  the  earth  be  green  again. 
And  tribulations  sore 
Shall  befall  thee  o'er  and  o'er — 
Ere  thy  evil  all  be  meted, 
And  thy  web  of  joy  completed. 
Come,  ye  fates,  and  set  the  seal, 
On  what  I  of  ye  reveal  1" 

He  paused,  and  struck  the  palms  of  his  hands  three  times 
together. 

"These  are  strange  words,  Luther,"  said  Kate,  "and  I 
do  not  understand  them." 

3 


26  KATE   CLARENDON. 


"  Thou  slialt  understand  all  in  time,"  answered  the  other. 

""Whpn  sorrows  dark  do  weiii^h  thee  down, 
Thou  shalt  behold  this  mystic  crown  j" 

[Here  he  touched  the  band  around  his  head.] 

"And  in  the  depths  of  deepest  woe, 
The  mysteries  I  have  told  thee,  know; 
What'er  thy  fortune,  nobly  bear, 
And  yield  thee  never  to  despair." 

"  My  mission  first  is  ended,  and  so  I  leave  thee.  Fare- 
well !" 

He  waved  his  hand,  and  turned  to  depart ;  but  just  as  he 
did  so,  Kate  uttered  a  piercing  scream  ;  and  wheeling 
suddenly  around,  Luther  perceived  her  features  distorted 
with  horror — for  notwithstanding  his  apparent  blindness, 
he  could  see  very  distinctly.  She  was  looking  upward,  at 
an  angle  of  sixty  degrees  ;  and  turning  his  own  gaze  in 
that  direction,  he  beheld,  to  his  amazement  and  alarm,  the 
fiery,  glaring  eyeballs  of  a  large  panther,  crouched  on  a 
neighboring  tree,  and  just  in  the  act  of  springing.  There 
was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost ;  and  catching  Kate  by  the 
arm,  as  though  she  w^ere  an  infant,  he  swung  her  upon  the 
back  of  her  coal  black  steed,  and  shouted ; 

"  Away  !  away  !" 

The  next  moment,  horse  and  rider  were  bounding  over 
the  plain,  and  man  and  beast  were  closing  together  for  the 
death  struggle  ;  for  in  his  haste  to  spring,  that  his  prey 
might  not  escape  him,  the  panther  had  fallen  a  little  short 
of  Luther ;  who,  dodging  quickly  around  the  tree,  had  thus 
time  to  draw  his  knife  and  prepare  himself  for  defence. 

As  to  Kate,  knowing  that  she  could  render  Blind  Luther 
no  personal  assistance,  she  rode  swiftly  to  an  open  field, 
some  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  wdiere  several  laborers  were 
at  work,  to  whom  she  quickly  made  known  the  peril  of  the 
Necromancer.  Seizing  their  rifles,  which  were  always 
their  companions,  some  five  or  six  hardy  fellow^s  started 


KATE   AND    THE    NECROMANCER.  27 

immediatelj  to  the  assistance  of  Blind  Luther,  (whora  all 
knew  and  respected,')  preceded  bj  Kate  herself.  When 
thej  arrived  at  the  spot,  to  their  astonishment,  they  found 
the  panther  lying  dead,  but  not  a  single  trace  of  his  op- 
ponent. 

"  He's  not  here  now,"  said  one. 

"  He's  the  devil,"  returned  another. 

"Wonderful  being,"  observed  a  third. 

Uttering  such,  and  similar  remarks,  they  spent  some  half 
an  hour  in  examining  the  animal,  the  ground  round  about, 
and  then  returned  to  their  labors,  more  than  ever  convinced 
that  Blind  Luther  was  something  superhuman. 

As  for  Kate,  she  explained  to  the  others  how  Luther  had 
suddenly  appeared  to  her,  and  the  manner  of  their  sepa- 
ration ;  but  of  their  conversation  she  told  nothing ;  and 
her  thoughts,  on  what  she  had  seen  and  heard,  she  kept  to 
herself.  As  she  rode  slowly  over  the  plain,  however,  to 
the  dwelling  of  her  father,  some  half  a  mile  distant,  a  close 
observer  might  have  seen  a  sedateness  on  her  countenance, 
a  sadness  in  her  eye,  that  accorded  but  ill  with  her  natu- 
rally light-hearted,  merry  look. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE    CLARENDONS. 

With  all  that's  ours,  together  let  us  rise, 

Seek  brighter  plains,  and  more  indulgent  skies ; 

Where  fair  Ohio  rolls  her  amber  tide, 

And  Nature  blossoms  in  her  virgin  pride  ; 

Where  all  that  Bounty's  hand  can  form  to  plense, 

Shall  crown  our  heavy  toils  with  rural  ease. — David  Humphreys. 

Misfortune  does  not  always  wait  on  vice, 

Nor  is  success  the  constant  guest  of  virtue. — Havard. 

George  Clarendon,  the  father  of  our  fair  heroine,  was 
a  native  of  eastern  Pennsylvania,  and  only  son  of  a  gen- 
tleman, who,  to  use  the  phrase,  was  "  well  to  do  in  the 
world."  At  an  early  age,  he  was  sent  to  school  in  Phila- 
delphia, where  he  received  a  good  education,  and  became 
acquainted  with  a  merchant's  daughter,  between  whom  and 
himself  sprung  up  an  intimacy,  which,  in  course  of  time, 
ripened  into  an  ardent  passion,  and  was  at  last  productive 
of  a  happy  marriage.  Not  having  any  set  occupation,  he 
entered  into  partnership  with  his  father-in-law;  and  for 
many  years  afterward,  the  firm  of  Cooly  &  Clarendon  was 
extensively  known  and  respected. 

During  this  time,  a  daughter  was  added  to  the  family — 
the  bright,  rosy,  mirth-loving  Kate,  whom  we  have  just 
described,  and  on  whom  both  parents  doated  fondly,  look- 
ing upon  her  as  an  angel  sent  from  Heaven  to  minister  to 
their  happiness.  Years  rolled  onward,  and  all  went 
smoothly  ;  and  of  course  Kate,  who  gave  promise  of  making 
a  beautiful  and  intelligent  woman,  was  not  neglected.  As 
soon  as  she  became  of  a  suitable  age,  she  was  sent  to  school, 


THE    CLARENDONS.  29 


and  every  means  possible  taken  to  secure  her  a  polished 
education — ^Yhich  she,  to  her  praise  be  it  said,  was  not 
slow  to  profit  by.  At  the  age  of  fourteen,  she  returned  to 
her  parents.  At  fifteen,  extensive  preparations  were  being 
set  on  foot  for  giving  a  grand  party,  that  she  might  make 
her  debut  in  society ;  but  ere  the  consummation  of  this 
event,  the  firm  of  Cooly  &  Clarendon,  to  the  utter  astonish- 
ment of  every  one,  suddenly  failed.  This  was  caused  by 
the  failure  of  a  large  mercantile  house  in  England,  with 
which  our  Philadelphians  had  a  too  close  business  con- 
nection. 

After  having  honorably  discharged  their  debts,  by  other 
property  in  their  possession.  Clarendon  and  his  partner 
found  they  had  but  little  left  them  ;  and  the  former  at  once 
resolved  to  take  what  means  he  had,  and  set  out  for  the 
West  forthwith ;  there  to  embrace  the  more  sure,  if  not 
more  profitable,  occupation  of  agriculture. 

Having  completed  his  arrangements,  he  bid  adieu  to  his 
friends,  and  departed  with  his  family,  on  a  journey  of  ad- 
venture to  the  frontiers.  His  first  stopping  place  was 
Pittsburgh ;  but  not  satisfied  with  the  appearance  of  the 
town,  he  joined  a  party  descending  the  river,  and  landed 
at  Marietta.  Still  dissatisfied,  he  joined  the  party  of  Major 
Stites,  and  was  one  of  the  first  who  landed  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Little  Miami,  on  the  ground  we  have  before  described. 

About  half,  or  perhaps  three-fourths  of  a  mile  above  the 
mouth  of  the  Miami,  and  a  hundred  rods  west  of  this 
stream,  was  the  spot  selected  by  Clarendon  for  his  residence 
Here,  soon  after  his  arrival,  he  erected  a  comfortable  log- 
cabin,  whither  he  soon  removed  his  wife  and  daughter,  who 
meantime  had  remained  at  Marietta. 

As  must  naturally  be  supposed,  it  was  anything  but 
agreeable  to  people  brought  up  in  the  refined  manner  of 
the  Clarendons,  and  used  all  their  lives  to  luxury,  to  be 

3* 


30  KATE   CLARENDON. 

changed  so  suddenly  from  their  former  enjoyments,  to  all 
the  rough,  rude  customs  of  pioneer  life ;  and  from  a  state 
of  security  and  ease,  be  transported  to  one  of  danger  and 
hardship.  But  they  had  counted  the  cost  beforehand,  and 
prepared  themselves  for  the  worst ;  so  that  the  change 
proved  less  severe  than  it  might  otherwise  have  done. 
Happiness  is  not  to  be  found  in  externals — it  lies  within, 
and  depends  altogether  upon  the  mind — and  as  the  Claren- 
-ions,  instead  of  fretting  and  complaining  of  what  they 
^ould  not  alter,  strove  to  look  upon  everything  as  happen- 
ins.  for  the  best,  and  souMit  to  be  cheerful  and  to  cheer 
each  other  with  words  of  hope  and  encouragement,  so  they 
soon  found  themselves  in  possession  of  enjoyments  beyond 
what  at  first  thought  seemed  possible  for  them  to  obtain. 

As  for  Kate,  always  light-hearted  and  merry,  she  was 
not  slow  in  finding  means  to  make  life  pass  gaily  and  agree- 
ably, even  in  the  wilds  of  the  frontiers.  She  was  exceed- 
ingly fond  of  the  sport  equestrian;  and  that  she  might  not 
be  deprived  of  all  the  privileges  which  fortune  had  hitherto 
bestowed  upon  her,  her  father  purchased  the  steed,  on 
(vhich  the  reader  has  already  seen  her  mounted,  and  on 
which  it  was  her  delight  to  scour  the  surrounding;  country, 
accompanied  by  the  playmate  of  her  youth,  the  faithful 
Bowler. 

Kate  soon  grew  to  like  her  new  home,  and  to  be  the  fa- 
vorite of  every  one  who  knew  her.  Her  frank,  cheerful, 
merry  disposition,  and  winning  ways,  won  the  hearts  of  all ; 
and  there  was  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child,  in  the  village 
of  Columbia,  but  spoke  of  her  in  the  highest  terms  of 
praise ;  nor  one  whose  face  did  not  grow  brighter  at  her 
coming.  She  ever  had  a  cheerful  Avord  and  a  smile  for  all, 
either  young  or  old.  She  was  the  belle  of  the  village,  by 
general  acclamation,  and  yet  none  were  envious.  What- 
ever Kate  did  was  perfectly  right ;   and  as  to  the  young 


THE    CLAREXDOXS.  31 


men.  the  greatest  poltroon  of  tliem  all  would  have  put  his 
life  in  jeopardy  to  gratify  her  slightest  "wish.  She  was  a 
queen,  and  reigned  supreme  ;  and  though  England's  sove- 
reign of  modern  days  may  possess  more  power  and  splen- 
dor, yet  Victoria,  in  the  height  of  her  popularity,  never  had 
admirers  more  ardent,  nor  subjects  more  devoted,  than  had 
simple  Kate  Clarendon. 

Our  fair  heroine  had  but  one  fault — perhaps  this  was  not 
a  fault,  strictly  speaking — but  if  so,  it  was  a  fault  of  cir- 
cumstances— one  of  which  almost  every  pretty  woman  is 
guilty — and  one  which,  if  not  carried  to  extremes,  is  cer- 
tainly pardonable :  she  was,  in  a  measure,  a  coquette. 
Among  the  villagers  she  had  many  admirers  ;  of  whom  there 
were  three,  genteel  young  men,  special  suitors  for  her  hand, 
at  the  opening  of  our  storj^.  For  these  three,  it  was  ru- 
mored, Kate  held  a  preference  over  all  others;  but  which 
one  of  the  three  was  most  admired  by  the  ffiir  girl,  none 
could  tell — not  even  themselves — for  to-day  it  was  appa- 
rently this  one,  and  the  next  day  that — so  that  each  was 
alternately  buoyed  up  with  hope,  and  depressed  by  disap- 
pointment. All  the  gossips  contended  she  had  a  choice ; 
but  tlie  difficulty  lay  in  finding  out  the  favored  one.  When- 
ever Kate  was  importuned  on  the  subject  herself,  she  inva- 
riably replied  with  a  laugh,  that  she  liked  them  all,  but  that 
her  choice  was  neither.  This,  however,  was  not  believed ; 
and  those  who  strove  to  keep  a  record  of  every  event  trans- 
piring in  the  world  of  Columbia,  were  daily  on  the  look-out 
for  the  news  of  a  wedding — of  beholding  the  merry  Kate 
caught  in  the  noose  Hvmenial. 

The  father  of  Kate,  was  a  man  some  forty  years  of  age, 
large  and  well-proportioned,  with  a  noble,  manly,  hand- 
some countenance,  and  manners  dignified  and  pleasing. 
Among  the  villagers  he  was  very  popular ;  and  being  a 
man  of  fine  intellect  and  education,  he  was  looked  up  to, 


32  KATE    CLARENDON'. 


bv  most,  with  much  deference  and  esteem.  His  wife  was 
a  mild,  quiet  lady,  of  a  sweet,  benevolent  disposition,  a 
few  years  his  junior,  who  also  stood  high  in  the  estimation 
of  the  people ;  so  that,  among  all  the  villagers,  there  was, 
probably,  no  family  that  enjoyed  a  greater  share  of  genu- 
ine, heart-felt  popularity,  than  the  Clarendons. 

The  residence  of  the  Clarendons  was  a  well-constructed 
double  cabin,  with  puncheon  floors  and  clap-board  roof. 
Their  furniture,  of  course,  was  of  the  plainest  description ; 
for  in  those  days,  and  in  this  section  of  country,  it  was 
impossible  to  have  other.  They  had  some  good  clothing, 
and  a  number  of  small  articles  .of  value,  which  they  had 
brought  with  them  from  the  East.  The  cabin  itself  stood 
upon  a  very  slight  knoll,  and  fronted  the  west,  surrounded 
by  a  tall  grove  of  beech,  sugar-tree,  locust,  &c. — with  the 
exception  of  an  acre  in  the  rear,  that  had  been  cut  away, 
and  the  ground  turned  into  a  handsome  garden  of  vege- 
tables and  flowers.  There  seemed  but  one  fault  in  the 
whole  arrangement ;  and  that  was,  that  the  dwelling  was 
too  much  exposed — its  nearest  neighbor  being  at  the  dis- 
tance of  nearly  half  a  mile.  This  was  remarked  upon  by 
some  of  the  settlers  at  the  time  of  its  erection ;  but  Cla- 
rendon himself  declared  that  he  had  no  apprehension,  and 
the  subject  was  never  again  referred  to. 

Time  rolled  on  smoothly,  and  the  Clarendons,  at  the 
date  of  our  story,  found  themselves  once  more  in  rather 
prosperous  circumstances.  But  as  it  is  with  Kate  we  have 
for  the  present  especially  to  do,  we  will  return  to  her 
forthwith. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


THE    RIVALS   AND   THE   RACE. 


Bright  as  the  sun,  her  eyes  the  gazers  strike; 
And,  like  the  sun,  they  shine  on  all  alike. — Pope. 

There's  danger  in  the  dazzling  eye, 

That  wooes  thee  with  its  witching  smile. — Mrs.  Osgood. 

But  then  her  face. 
So  lovely,  yet  so  arch — so  full  of  mirth, 
The  overflowing  of  an  innocent  heart. — Rogers. 


Upon  the  youthful  mind  of  Kate,  the  words  of  the  Ne- 
cromancer made  a  deep  impression  ;  and  for  several  days 
after  their  interview,  it  was  noticed  by  her  friends,  with 
some  concern,  that,  contrary  to  her  usual  manner,  she  ap- 
peared sad,  thoughtful,  and  even  abstracted.  But  as  it 
was  known  she  had  received  a  severe  fright  from  the  pan- 
ther, the  cause  was  attributed  to  this,  and  every  one  looked 
to  see  it  gradually  wear  off,  and  behold  her  again  bright 
with  her  own  cheerful,  happy  smile.  Wear  off  the  sad- 
ness certainly  did ;  and  a  week  from  the  event  we  have 
chronicled,  Kate  appeared  the  sa^me  smiling,  joyous  being 
as  before. 

About  this  time,  the  young  people  of  Columbia  decided 
on  having  a  ball — which,  if  it  could  not  rival  in  splendor 
some  in  the  older  settlements,  might,  at  least,  in  heart-felt 
enjoyment.  Accordingly,  an  appropriate  place  was  se- 
lected, a  fiddler  engaged,  and  every  preparation  thought 
necessary  for  the  coming  event  speedily  set  on  foot.  The 
building  chosen  for  the  purpose,  was  a  new  double  cabin, 
which  had  just  been  completed,  and  only  waited  this  kind 
8  (33) 


€f 


4  KATE   CLA.KENDON'. 


of  christening,  as  some  of  tliem  termed  it,  for  the  young 
couple  who  were  to  tenant  it,  to  take  up  their  abode  therein. 
Flowers  of  all  hues,  together  with  sprigs  of  cedar,  were 
collected ;  and  the  walls  and  ceiling  were  decorated  with 
hann-ino-s  of  sreen,  and  with  beautiful  festoons  and  bou- 
quets.  In  one  apartment  a  long  table  was  spread,  and 
covered  with  such  delicacies  as  the  country  then  afforded  ; 
and  many  dishes  there  were,  (composed  of  deer,  bear  and 
buffalo  meat,)  which,  among  us  of  the  present  day,  would 
be  considered  great  rarities.  An  old  banner  of  stars  and 
stripes  (that  had  been  somewhat  torn  and  riddled  in  the 
long  and  sanguinary  struggle  of  the  Revolution,  which  be- 
longed to  one  of  the  settlers,  who  had  himself  carried  it 
in  the  heat  of  battle,  and  which  was  held  in  great  venera- 
tion by  all)  was  procured  and  arched  over  the  door  of 
entrance;  and  not  all  the  purple  and  crimson  robes  of 
royalty,  could  have  excited  one  tithe  of  as  much  pride  in 
the  bosoms  of  those  simple-minded  pioneers,  as  did  this 
soiled  and  dirt-begrimed  bunting  of  "  red,  white  and 
blue." 

The  belle  of  the  ball  was,  of  course,  to  be  our  youthful 
Kate ;  and  as  she  was  to  be  escorted  thither  by  one  indi- 
vidual only,  and  as  there  were  three  young  men  w^ho  laid 
equal  claims  to  the  honor  of  being  her  beau-gallant  for  the 
occasion,  there  was,  as  a  natural  consequence,  some  pecu- 
liar sensations  excited  in  the  breasts  of  each,  in  regard  to 
which  should  be  the  favored  one. 

Unwilling  to  take  an  undue  advantage  of  each  other, 
they  met  to  decide  the  matter  by  themselves.  Among 
other  things,  one  proposed  that  they  should  draw  lots  for 
the  preference ;  another,  that  they  should  run  a  race  for 
it ;  and  the  third  and  last,  that  they  should  all  go  in  a  body 
together,  and  allow  her  to  make  her  own  selection.  This 
last  proposition  was  finally  agreed  to ;  as  the  point  at  issue 


THE   RIVALS   AND   THE   RACE.  35 

"SN'Ould,  in  this  -v^'aVj  be  decided  bj  the  girl  herself;  and, 
consequently,  each  would  know  which  was  the  most  favored 
suitor  of  the  three. 

Accordingly,  the  next  morning,  which  was  a  beautiful 
one  indeed,  and  the  third  preceding  the  gala  night,  our 
three  lovers  mounted  themselves  on  fine  horses,  and  together 
rode  over  the  plain  toward  the  residence  of  their  fair  um- 
pire, to  have  the  pending  question  decided  by  her  own 
sweet  lips  and  voice — each  to  be  made  happy  or  miserable, 
as  the  case  might  turn  out. 

Kate  was  seated  in  the  door  of  her  cot,  gazing  upon  the 
lofty  old  trees,  that  threw  their  deep,  cool  shadows  over 
the  luxuriant  earth  beneath,  watching  the  birds  that  hopped 
from  branch  to  branch,  and  listening  to  their  happy,  musi- 
cal, artless  songs,  the  while  humming  some  tune  herself,  in 
a  corresponding  strain  of  melody.  At  length  the  tones  of 
her  voice  swelled  out,  rich  and  clear,  in  the  following 

SOXG. 

"Sin.^,  ye  ■warblers,  sing! 
Make  the  forest  cheery — 
Swell  your  throats, 
With  glorious  notes, 
And  let  nut  earth  seem  dreary, 

"  Sing,  ye  warblers,  sing  ! 

To  the  streams  and  flowers- 
In  your  prime, 
Improve  your  time, 
And  golden  make  the  hours. 

"Sing,  ye  warblers,  sing! 

God  lists  your  voices — 

Nature  hears, 

Tlirough  morning  tears, 
And  in  the  sound  rejoices." 

As  Kate  concluded,  she  leisurely  cast  her  eyes  over  the 
plain  ;  and,  as  she  did  so,  an  observer  might  have  seen 
them  widen,  brighten  and  twinkle  with  an  expression  of 
quiet,  mischievous  satisfaction.  Turning  to  her  mother, 
wdio  was  seated  behind  her  some  little  distance,  within  the 
cottage,  needle-work  in  hand,  she  said,  gaily : 


36  KATE   CLAEENDON. 


"I  do  wonder,  mother,  whether  you  and  I  are  going  to 
be  taken  by  storm,  or  whether  it  be  me  alone  ?" 

"  Why  so,  Kate  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Clarendon. 

"  AVhy,  yonder  come  three  gallant  gentlemen,  all  mounted, 
who  individually  honor  me  with  their  addresses  and  words 
of  flattery.  One  alone,  or  one  at  a  time,  is  enough,  in  all 
conscience  ! — but,  heigh-ho,  here  are  three  together — what 
shall  I  do?" 

"  Weil,  Kate,  if  you  would  follow  my  instructions,  you 
would  not  be  troubled  this  way,"  returned  the  mother 
of  our  heroine,  reprovingly.  ^'Why  don't  you  make  a 
selection,  and  dismiss  the  others  ?  It  does  not  look  well 
to  see  a  young  lady  with  too  many  beaux,  I  can  assure 

"  But  which  shall  I  select,  dearest  mother  mine?"  asked 
Kate,  Avith  a  roguish  smile. 

"'  How  should  I  know  !  Select  the  one  you  esteem  the 
most." 

''But  suppose  they  are  all  alike  in  my  estimation  ?" 

"Why,  then,  you  do  not  love  any,  and  so  discharge 
them  all." 

"  Discharge  them,  indeed  !"  rejoined  Kate,  laughing. 
*'  Why,  they  would  all  go  mad,  and  hang  or  drown  them- 
selves— that  is,  if  I  may  believe  their  assurances — and  then 
what  awful  crimes  would  be  laid  to  my  charge  !  and  what 
a  weight  would  eternally  be  on  my  conscience  !" 

"  Go  to,  Kate,"  replied  her  mother,  smiling;  "there  ia 
no  use  in  trying  to  do  anything  with  you,  for  you  turc 
everything  into  ridicule.  You  are  a  spoiled  child,  Kate,  1 
fear." 

"  Heigh-ho  !  I  fear  so,  too,"  rejoined  Kate,  drawing  a 
long  sigh,  and  pretending  to  be  very  serious,  although  she 
could  scarcely  refrain  from  a  burst  of  merriment.  "  But 
I  say,  mother,  would  I  not  be  worse  spoiled  indeed,  should 


THE    RIVALS   AND   THE    RACE.  37 

I  discharge  all  these  gay  youths,  and  have  not  a  single  one 
left  to  help  myself  with?  0,  would  that  not  be  awful!" 
And  Kate  clasped  her  hands  together,  with  a  stage  struck 
air,  and  rolled  her  eyes  upward  in  mock  solemnity. 

"  Have  a  care,  child,  or  that  will  be  your  fate  in  earnest !" 

said  her  mother,  her  own  risible  muscles  requiring  a  great 

.  effort  to  keep  them  quiet,  as  she  gazed  upon  her  daughter. 

"  Have  a  care,  Kate,  or  they  will  discharge  themselves  !'* 

^'Do  you  think  so,  mother  ?  0,  wonderful  youths  !  how 
I  envy  them  such  firmness  of  decision  !" 

^'  Many  a  gay  coquette  has  died  an  old  maid,  despised 
and  rejected  by  those  she  once  flirted  with  and  rejected  her- 
self," pursued  Mrs.  Clarendon.  "  Better  take  warning  in 
time,  daughter  mine." 

"  An  old  maid  !"  exclaimed  Kate,  in  mock  horror, 
shaking  her  head,  and  throwing  about  her  sunny  curls  in 
wanton  profusion.  "  Oh,  horrible  fate — horrible  !  To  think 
of  living  without  a  lord  to  control  all  one's  actions — to  hold 
the  purse — to  give  one  grave  advice  on  the  most  trifling 
subjects — to  tell  one  how  to  dress — where  one  may  go — 
when  one  must  stay  at  home  :  to  think  of  living  without  a 
family  to  slave  for — to  have  no  one  to  take  care  of  but 
one's  self:  oh  I  this  must  be  horrible!  No,  no!  I  must 
not  think  of  such  a  thing ;  and  as  here  come  my  cavalier 
gallants,  I  will  strive  to  secure  one,  at  least,  in  time  to  save 
me  from  a  destiny  so  awful." 

As  Kate  concluded,  the  three  young  men  we  have  alluded 
to,  rode  up  to  the  door,  and  each  made  his  obeisance,  and 
spoke  his  morning  salutation. 

"  Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  said  Kate,  in  return. 
"  Really,  I  know  not  what  to  think  of  beholding  you  three 
together.     Are  you  on  a  mission  of  peace  or  blood  ?" 

"  Peace,  most  decidedly,"  answered  the  foremost,  a  fine 
comely  youth  of  twenty,  with  dark,  bright  eyes,  brown, 

4 


38  KATE    CLARENDON. 


curly  li:ur,  and  an  intelligent  countenance.  He  was  the 
son  of  a  respectaLlG  citizen  of  the  village,  and  was  called 
Albert  Danvers. 

'•  We  never  enter  a  ladv's  company  vritli  any  other  mo- 
tive,"  added  the  second,  a  square-built,  robust,  jolly-faced 
voun(T  man  of  nineteen,  ^Yhose  countenance  indicated  health 
and  happiness.  He  was  also  the  son  of  a  settler,  and  was 
called  Orville  Danburj. 

The  third  member  of  the  party  was  older,  more  marked 
in  his  appearance  than  either  of  the  others,  and  conse- 
quently will  require  a  more  minute  description.  His  age 
was  about  twenty-three,  and  his  figure  slim  and  tall.  His 
features  Avere  rather  effeminate  than  manly,  with  a  sallow 
complexion,  and  were  expressive  of  habitual  thought  on 
gloomy  subjects.  He  had  blacu,  sunken,  piercing  eyes, 
a  straight,  well-formed  nose,  a  rather  pretty  mouth,  and  a 
round  and  prominent  chin.  His  lips  were  thin  and  habitu- 
ally compressed ;  and  when  he  smiled,  which  he  did  but 
seldom,  and  then  as  if  by  an  effort,  there  lurked  around 
them  an  expression  both  sensual  and  sinister.  He  had 
little,  very  little  beard — so  that  his  face  was  as  smooth 
almost  as  a  lady's.  His  forehead  was  high,  but  not  of  a 
prepossessing  cast,  and  was  marred  by  deep  furrows,  as  if 
the  mind  were  continually  employed  on  some  difficult  theme. 
His  hair  was  black  and  curly  ;  and,  what  was  somewhat 
rare  in  that  part  of  the  country  at  that  da}^  was  kept  Avell 
oiled  and  brushed.  His  suit  of  fine  broad-cloth,  neatly 
fitted  to  his  person,  contrasted  forcibly  with  the  coarse, 
loose,  home-made,  wool- mixed  grey  of  his  companions. 

The  origin  of  Rashton  Moody  (so  he  termed  himself) 
was  not  definitely  known  to  any  of  the  villagers.  About 
a  year  previous  to  the  date  of  our  story,  he  made  his  ap- 
pearance in  Columbia,  bearing  a  pack  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  with  him  bringing  the  implements  of  a  surveyor.     A3 


THE   HIYALS    AND    THE    RACE.  39 


a  person  of  his  profession  happened  to  be  wanted  at  tho 
time,  he  was  immediately  given  employment,  and  had  re- 
mained in  the  vicinity  ever  since.  His  dress,  occupation, 
and  finished  manners,  at  once  made  him  the  beau  ideal  of 
all  the  young  ladies  of  the  village,  to  whom  his  slightest 
expression  was  an  oracle  of  wisdom  ;  and  in  whose  pale, 
thoughtful,  half-melancholy  countenance,  they  saw  enough 
to  excite  their  sympathies,  together  with  a  world  of  ro- 
mance ;  and  consequently,  of  all  their  imaginings,  he  was 
the  hero.  But  if  ail  fancied  him,  it  was  evident  that  he 
did  not  reciprocate  ;  for  after  a  time,  he  gradually  with- 
drew his  company  from  all  save  Kate  Clarendon  ;  and  if 
there  chanced  to  be  a  gathering  where  she  was  not  ex- 
pected to  be  present,  Rashton  Moody  was  invariably  ab- 
sent. Had  Kate  not  been  a  great  favorite  with  all,  this 
marked  expression  of  regard  for  her  alone,  from  one  so 
universally  popular,  must  have  made  her  many  enemies 
among  her  own  sex. 

Now,  as  often  happens  in  such  cases,  the  individual  him- 
self, and  the  preference  shown  by  him  for  her  company, 
were  less  agreeable  to  Kate,  than  they  would  have  been  to 
almost  any  other  unmarried  lady  in  Columbia.  But  Kate, 
as  we  have  said,  was,  a  little  inclined  to  be  coquettish ;  so 
that  whatever  might  be  her  real  feelings,  they  were  con- 
cealed by  a  dissemblance  that  completely  deceived  all; 
and,  moreover,  it  was  perfectly  natural  that  one  of  her  turn 
of  mind  should  feel  flattered  by  the  attentions  of  a  per- 
sonao-e  so  much  sought  for  bv  others,  whether  she  cared  for 
him  herself  or  not.  Had  Kate  expressed  the  real  senti- 
ments of  her  heart,  she  would  have  said  that  she  liked 
Danvers,  could  endure  Danbur}^  but  that  the  company  of 
Moody  was  really  disagreeable  to  her.  Notwithstanding 
all  this,  however,  there  was,  to  her,  rare  sport  in  having 
what  she  termed  three  devoted  lovers  of  respectability; 


40  KATE    CLARENDON. 


and  so  she  encouraged   all  collectively;  but  managed  to 
evade  committiHg  herself  with  any  separately.     Her  plan 
was  adopted  more  for  her  own  amusement,  doubtless,  than 
for  any  other  purpose.     Iler  delight  was  in  drawing  them 
on  to  a  certain  point,  and  then,  just  as   the  conversation 
was  becoming  somewhat  serious,  adroitly  turning  it  by  some 
light  remark  foreign  to  the  subject.     As  she  cared  less  for 
Moody  than  either  of  the  others,  so   she  feared  him  the 
more ;  for  there  was  something  about  him,  that,  in  spite  of 
herself,  always  made  her  gloomy,  and  chilled  all  the  warm 
impulses  of  her  joyous  heart.     Could  she  with  propriety 
have  dismissed  him,  doubtless  she  w^ould  have  done  so  ;  but 
to  do  this,  while  receiving  the  attentions  of  others,  would 
have  called  for  an  explanation,  and  she  had  none  suitable 
to  give.     Neither  would  it  do,  as  she  looked  upon  the  mat- 
ter, to  wound  his  feelings,  by  treating  him  less  civilly  than 
his  rivals.  Thus  matters  stood  between  the  various  parties, 
at  the  time  we   have  chosen  to  introduce  them   to  the 
reader. 

"Well,  Sir  Knight  of  the  Black  Armor,"  said  Kate, 
addressing  Moody,  in  a  tone  of  innocent  raillery,  after 
having  waited  a  sufiBcient  time  for  him  to  begin  the  con- 
versation, "  how  is  it  that  your  lips  are  more  sealed  than 
your  companions  in  arms  of  the  Hodden  Grey?" 

"  True  love  is  ever  silent,"  returned  Moody,  laconically, 
fixing  his  dark,  piercing  eyes  upon  Kate,  in  a  manner  so 
earnest  as  to  draw  a  blush  to  her  cheek. 

"Nay,"  said  Kate,  rallying,  "that  is  not  to  the  point, 
sirrah  !     We  were  not  talking  of  love." 

"  Only  thinking,"  observed  Moody. 

"  Nay,  sir,  I  deny  that,  for  myself,  I  was  even  thinking 
of  love." 

"  I  cannot  say  as  much  for  myself,"  sighed  Moody. 

**  Faith,  but  you  are  becoming  sentimental,"  replied  Kate, 


THE    RIVALS   AND    THE    RACE.  41 

forcing  out  a  ringing  laugh,  to  cover  the  embarrassment 
she  felt  from  a  remark  so  pointed.  "  Come,  my  gallant 
cavaliers,"  she  added  to  all,  "will  you  not  dismount,  and 
honor  the  dwelling  of  a  poor  maiden  for  a  short  time?" 

"  Why,  as  to  that,"  replied  the  first  speaker,  Albert 
Dan  vers,  "I  can  say,  for  myself,  that  nothing  would  be 
more  agreeable  to  me,  were  it  not  that  I  think  the  errand 
on  which  we  came  can  be  better  done  as  we  sit." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Danbury. 

"  Say  on,  my  noble  seniors — I  am  all  attention,"  re- 
plied Kate. 

"  As  I  have  been  appointed  spokesman,"  said  Danvers, 
"I  may  as  well " 

"Not  make  any  blunders,"  put  in  Kate,  with  a  laugh. 

"Exactly." 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  first  you  must  know,  fair  Miss  Clarendon " 

"Stop!"  interrupted  Kate;  "no  flattery  to  the  face, 
Albert." 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  know.  Miss  Kate,  if  you  do  not 
already,  that  a  few  nights  since,  in  solemn  conclave  met, 
the  young  people  of  Columbia  decided  on  having  a  ball — 
rude,  it  is  true — but  still  a  ball — and  the  best  we  can 
give." 

"  Hum  !— indeed !— Well  ?" 

"  And  at  this  ball,  it  was  anxiously  hoped  would  be  col- 
lected all  the  fair  faces  of  the  town." 

"Yes?" 

"In  which  case,  Kate  Clarendon  could  not  be  absent." 

"  Hum  ! — flattery  again." 

"  Whereupon  the  query  afterward  came  up,  as  to  which 
ehould  be  the  lucky  man,  out  of  a  certain  three,  to  escort 
her  thither." 

"  Which  was  decided — " 

4* 


42  KATE   CLARENDON. 


"  Nay,  which  has  not  been  decided  at  all,  but  left  to 
your  own  fair  self  to  say." 

"  How  ?  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Why,  simply,  Miss  Kate,  you  are  to  choose  out  of  the 
three  before  you,  which  one  will  you  have  for  your  gallant 
on  the  occasion." 

"  In  earnest?" 

"Earnest,  I  assure  you." 

Kate  looked  at  the  three  mounted  young  men,  for  a  mo- 
ment, seriously,  and  then  burst  into  a  wild,  merry  laugh, 
and  clapped  her  hands  with  childish  delight. 

"  Well,  if  this  is  not  the  funniest  thing  I  ever  heard  of  I" 
she  exclaimed  :  "  Three  young  men,  riding  off  to  their 
lady-love  together,  to  be  picked  from  as  a  farmer  would 
select  a  sheep  from  his  flock  for  the  slaughter.  Well,  trot 
out  here,  and  let  me  consider. 

"First,"  continued  Kate,  as  if  soliloquising,  "there  is 
Albert  Danvers — a  good-looking  fellow  enough;  but  then 
he  don't  know  how  to  sit  his  horse  properly,  keeps  his 
knee  too  stiff,  and  is  too  tall,  I  think,  and  broad  in  the 
shoulders,  to  suit  my  taste.  Then  there  is  Orville  Dan- 
bury — not  quite  so  good-looking  as  the  first,  is  too  short 
and  clumsy,  has  a  face  too  big,  and  laughs  too  much :  I 
can't  take  him.  Lastly,  here  is  Rashton  Moody — too  tall, 
too  slim,  too  pale  and  sallow,  dresses  too  nice,  and  don't 
laugh  enough ;  and  when  he  does  laugh,  makes  one  have 
the  cold  chills.  He  won't  do.  Gentlemen,"  concluded 
Kate,  her  dark,  sparkling  eyes  twinkling  with  merriment, 
"  I  have  thought  the  matter  over,  seriously,  and,  'pon  my 
word,  I  really  don't  think  I  shall  be  able  to  make  a 
choice." 

"Then,"  said  Moody,  quickly,  "allow  me  to  tender  my 
services  alone!" 

"  Why,  really.  Sir  Knight  of  the  Black  Armor,  I ", 


THE   RIVALS   AND   THE    RACE.  43 


"  Unfair  !  unfair  !"  cried  Albert  and  Orville.  "  Kate 
must  make  her  own  selection,  or  we  go  back  as  we  came — 
those  are  the  terms  of  agreement." 

^  "  Terms,   or  no  terms,  I  shall  do  as  I  think  proper," 
replied  Moodj,  haughtily. 

"  Come,  come — no  airs  here !"  returned  Danvers,  his 
dark  eyes  flashing. 

"  Do  you  pretend  to  dictate  to  me,  sir  ?"  retorted  Moody, 
angrily. 

"  Hold,  comrades  !  you  are  in  the  presence  of  a  lady  !" 
said  Danbury. 

"And  pretend  to  come  on  a  mission  of  peace,"  rejoined 
Kate.  "  I  thought  you  would  be  at  each  other's  throats 
soon,  when  I  saw  you  ride  up.  Fie  !  my  cavaliers — for 
shame  !" 

"  Your  rebuke  is  just,  and  you  shall  hear  no  more  from 
me  of  a  quarrelsome  nature,"  replied  Danvers.  ''  But 
come — will  you  not  make  a  choice  between  us,  for  your 
escort  to  the  ball  ?" 

"I/ear  to  choose  noiu,  lest  I  revive  the  quarrel,"  an- 
swered Kate,  pointedly. 

"  I  ple'lge  you  my  honor,  that  I  will  abide  the  decision 
without  a  word,"  said  Danvers. 

"  And  I,"  said  Danbury. 

"I  f,hfill  do  as  the  others,"  said  Moody,  sullenly,  com- 
press'.rg  his  lips,  and  looking  downward. 

"  [  have  it !"  exclaimed  Kate,  gaily,  a  new  idea  at  the 
moment  striking  her.  "■  I  have  it  !  I  will  decide  it  by  a 
race.  I  will  have  my  Marston,  and  mount  him,  and  have 
five  rods  the  start,  and  he  who  overtakes  me  first,  shall  be 
my  companion  to  the  ball.     What  say  you,  my  cavaliers  ?" 

"Ao-reed!  agreed !"  cried  Danvers  and  Danbury  in  a 
breath. 

"  I  shall  take  my  chance,  of  course,"  said  Moody,  dryly. 


44  KATE   CLASENDON. 

"Mother,  where  is  Icha  ?"  inquired  Kate,  springing 
into  the  house. 

"  He  is  at  work  in  the  garden,  child ;  but  what  strange 
freak  have  you  got  in  your  head  now?" 

"  A  race  for  a  lover,"  answered  Kate,  laughing;  and 
darting  to  the  door  in  the  rear,  the  next  moment  her  clear 
voice  was  heard  calling,  at  the  top  of  her  lun^s,  the  name 
of  Ichahod  Longtree. 

Presently  an  answer  was  returned ;  and  shortly  after, 
the  person  bearing  the  poetical  appellation  just  mentioned, 
made  his  appearance.  He  was  a  tall,  gaunt,  bony  man  of 
thirty,  with  a  long,  thin  visage,  small,  grey,  cunning  eyes, 
a  large  nose  and  mouth,  with  teeth  projecting,  a  falling  off, 
double  chin,  and,  taken  as  a  whole,  anything  but  a  beauty. 
For  many  years,  while  the  Clarendons  were  in  good  circum- 
stances, he  had  served  them  in  the  capacity  of  gardener ; 
and  so  attached  had  he  become  to  the  family,  particularly 
to  his  "little  pet,"  as  he  was  wont  to  term  Kate,  that 
when  he  was  paid  off  and  discharged,  he  refused  to  go,  and 
begged,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  he  might  be  allowed  to 
accompany  them  to  the  West.  For  some  time.  Clarendon 
tried  to  dissuade  him  from  this ;  but  finding  his  arguments 
of  no  avail,  he  at  last  consented,  on  condition  that  he  must 
expect  no  wages,  unless  he,  Clarendon,  again  became  pros- 
perous. As  affection,  not  money,  was  the  tie  which  bound 
Ichabod  Longtree  to  the  Clarendons,  so  he,  in  consequence, 
made  one  of  the  party,  and  had  remained  with  them  ever 
since — employing  his  time  as  gardener,  hostler,  and  an 
attendant  in  general  upon  the  ladies. 

"  Well,  Icha,"  said  Kate,  as  the  individual  in  question 
made  his  appearance ;  "  saddle  Marston,  and  bring  him  to 
the  door.     I  am  off  for  a  race." 

"  Yes,  and  some  day  you'll  jest  git  your  neck  broke  in 
a  race,  my  little  pet,"  returned  Ichabod. 


THE   RIVALS   AND   THE   RACE.  45 

"Never  you  mind  my  neck,  but  do  as  I  bid  you!" 

"  Oh,  don't  fear  me  ;  I'll  go  straightway  ;"  and  off  went 
Ichabod  for  the  horse. 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  coal-black  poney  of  Kate  stood 
before  the  door,  arching  his  proud  neck,  and  pawing  the 
ground,  impatient  to  be  off.  Kate,  meantime,  had  thrown 
on  her  riding-dress,  and  m  another  moment  she  was  in  the 
saddle. 

"Now,  my  cavaliers,"  she  said,  gaily,  "square  your 
horses'  heads,  and  wait  the  word." 

Complying  with  her  request,  each  put  his  beast  on  a 
line  with  his  neighbor;  while  Kate  rode  out  in  front,  to  a 
suitable  distance,  and  turning  upon  her  saddle,  said : 

"Ready,  all!  Now!" 

At  the  last  word,  her  riding-whip  touched  the  flank  of 
Marston,  and  away  bounded  the  fiery  beast  with  great 
velocity,  and  forward  leaped  the  horses  of  the  rivals  in 
eager  chase. 

It  was  a  beautiful  and  novel  sight.  Erect  upon  her  rush- 
ing steed,  motionless  as  if  carved  there  from  marble,  sat  Kat«? 
Clarendon,  her  tightened  reins  held  gracefully  in  her  snowy 
hands,  speeding  onward,  fearlessly,  amid  the  labyrinthian 
forest,  gradually  gaining  upon  her  pursuers,  who  now,  be- 
coming separated  from  each  other,  somewhat,  by  the  differ- 
ence in  the  speed  of  their  horses,  were  spurring  and  whip- 
ping forward  with  all  their  might.  On,  on  they  dashed — • 
startlino;  the  tenants  of  the  wood — causino;  the  birds  to 
flutter  and  twitter  above  them,  or  leave  what  they  consid- 
ered a  dangerous  vicinity — while  ever  and  anon  the  ring- 
ing voice  and  laugh  of  Kate,  echoing  through  the  forest, 
urged  on  her  pursuers  almost  to  desperation.  Forward 
they  dashed,  for  half  an  hour,  on  a  circuitous  route,»when 
the  horse  of  Moody,  being  of  exceedingly  good  bottom, 
began  to  distance  his  rivals,  and  gradually  gain  upon  tho 


46  KATE   CLARENDON. 

pony  of  Kate.  This  Kate  perceived  with  anything  but 
satisfaction,  and  urged  Marston  to  do  his  best.  In  vain, 
however,  did  her  noble  animal  renew  all  his  powers  of  velo- 
city ;  in  vain  fell  the  whip  upon  his  flanks ;  he  had  met 
with  more  than  his  equal ;  and  steadily  the  beast  of  Moody 
came  bounding  forward,  every  step  shortening  the  distance 
between  them.  -At  last,  Kate,  who  saw  she  must  soon  be 
overtaken,  sought,  hj  a  manoeuvre,  to  turn,  pretend  to 
yield,  and  then  suddenly  pass  Moody,  and,  by  a  straight 
course,  gain  her  home  in  advance  of  him,  and  thus  clear 
herself;  but  the  design  was  anticipated — the  eifort  ft^iled — 
and  two  minutes  after,  the  hand  of  Moody  was  laid  upon 
her  bridle-rein. 

*'I  have  won  !"  he  said,  his  black  eyes  sparkling,  and  a 
rather  malicious  smile  of  triumph  hovering  around  his  al- 
most white  and  closely  compressed  lips.  "  I  have  won, 
Miss  Clarendon— fairly  won." 

''You  have  won,  that  is  certain,  whether  fairly  or  not," 
replied  Kate,  pettishly,  with  a  vexed  expression  on  her 
usually  laughing  countenance. 

"I  have  won,  by  your  own  proposal,  at  all  events,"  he 
replied,  rather  coolly ;  "  and  of  course  I  shall  claim  my 
reward." 

"  Of  course  you  will  claim  it,"  rejoined  Kate,  pointedly, 
"  and  of  course  you  will  get  it." 

"  You  seem  displeased,  Miss  Clarendon." 

"Hamlet  says,  'I  know  not  seems,'"  answered  Kate, 
drily.     "Let  us  return." 

"Perhaps  if  one  of  my  rivals  had  won,  you  would  have 
been  better  suited,"  observed  Moody,  fastening  his  eyes 
keenly  upon  his  fair  companion. 

Kate  made  no  reply ;  but  jerking  the  rein  of  her  beast 
rather  hastily,  started  him  into  a  gallop. 

A  cloud  suddenly  came  over  the  face  of  Moody,  and  he 


THE   RIVALS   AND   THE    RACE.  47 

placed  his  hands  to  his  temples,  as  if  in  pain.  Then  dark 
thoughts  could  be  traced  in  the  gleam  of  his  eyes,  and  a 
cold,  sinister  smile  played  around  his  mouth.  Then  mut- 
tering— "  If  you  tread  upon  a  serpent,  beware  of  his  fangs  !" 
he  tightened  his  rein,  and,  spurring  forward,  soon  overtook 
Kate,  who  was  riding  in  advance.  When  he  reached  her 
side,  his  countenance  had  resumed  its  usual  expression. 

On  their  way  to  the  residence  of  our  heroine,  they  were 
joined  by  the  others,  who,  after  passing  some  few  dry  con- 
gratulations on  the  termination  of  the  chase,  and  perceiv- 
ing all  was  not  right,  relapsed  into  silence.  The  remain- 
der of  the  way  was  passed  without  a  word  from  either 
party. 

Ac  the  door  of  the  cottage,  each  took  leave  of  Kate,  ra- 
ther ceremoniously,  and  then  departed — Moody  by  him- 
eelf — not  one  of  the  four  pleased  with  the  morning's  work. 


CHAPTEH  V. 

THE  VILLAIN  UNMASKED. 

The  bright  and  youthful  dancers  meet. 

With  laughing  lips  and  Avinged  feet; 

And  golden  locks  come  flashing  by, 

Like  sudden  sunshine  through  the  sky. — Mrs.  C.  H.  W.  EsLlNCfc, 

Do  I  not  in  plainest  truth  tell  you, 

I  do  not,  nor  I  cannot  love  you  ? — Shakspeare. 

Repulse  upon  repulse  met  ever — 

Yet  gives  not  o'er,  though  desperate  of  success. — Miltox. 

At  an  early  hour,  on  the  evening  of  the  ball  alluded  to 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  Rashton  Moody,  finely  mounted, 
rode  up  to  the  door  of  the  Clarendons.  Kate  had  previ- 
ously completed  her  preparations,  and  in  a  few  minutes  she 
was  mounted  on  her  beast,  and  bearing  him  company  to  the 
filace  appointed.  But  although  she  strictly  complied  with 
her  agreement,  in  accompanying  him  to  the  ball,  yet  it  was 
clearly  evident  to  Moody,  by  her  manner,  that  his  com- 
pany was  not  so  agreeable  to  her  as  he  could  have  wished. 
All  his  efforts  to  draw  her  into  conversation,  only  resulted, 
on  her  part,  in  the  utterance  of  monosyllables ;  so  that,  in 
a  short  time,  he  gave  up  the  attempt  in  despair;  and  the 
remainder  of  the  ride  over  the  plain  was  passed  in  silence 
— both  occupied  with  thoughts  of  their  own — those  of 
Moody,  we  fear,  not  being  of  the  most  harmless  nature 
ima2;inable. 

The  ball  turned  out  to  be  a  fine  affair — at  least  for  those 
days — and  great  hilarity  prevailed.  Kate,  on  that  occa- 
sion, however,  seemed  not  herself  She  danced,  it  is  true  ; 
was  lively  and  even  gay ;  but  those  who  observed  her  nar- 
(48) 


THE   yiLLATX    UX.MASKED.  49 

rowly — and  there  were  many  who  dic^  among  whom  were 
Danvers  and  D anbury — perceiv^ed  that  the  feeling  of  joy- 
ousness,  usually  so  apparent  on  such  occasions,  was  sadly 
wanting.  Some,  who  noticed  it,  even  went  so  far  as  to 
question  her  on  the  subject ;  but  she  ever  replied,  with  a 
forced  laugh,  that  her  looks  must  belie  her,  as  she  never 
felt  more  cheerful  in  her  life. 

Moody,  too,  was  more  cold  and  distant  than  usual ; 
rarely  spoke  to  any,  and  then  very  briefly;  seldom  smiled, 
and  altogether  seemed  in  an  ill-humor.  But  the  dance, 
notwithstanding,  went  gaily  on ;  the  fiddler,  to  the  best  of 
his  ability,  ''  discoursed  his  eloquent  music;"  and  a  strauger, 
to  have  seen  the  sparkling  eyes,  the  rosy  cheeks,  radiant 
with  smiles,  and  the  bounding  forms,  as  they  whirled  over 
the  floor,  and  heard  the  jests,  and  the  laugh,  and  peradven- 
ture  the  gay  song,  from  such  as  chose  not  to  be  occupied 
with  the  "fantastic  toe,"  would  have  pronounced  it  a  hap- 
py assemblage,  without  one  present  who  did  not  feel  what 
all  seemed  to  enjoy. 

Between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock,  the  company  was  in- 
vited to  partake  of  refreshments;  and  all  crowded  to  the 
adjoining  apartment,  where  ample  justice  was  done  to  the 
viands  before  them,  and  where  the  same  hilarious  feelings 
continued  to  prevail.  As  soon  as  this  was  over,  Kate  an- 
nounced her  intention  of  returning  immediately.  On  hear- 
ing this,  every  one  looked  surprised,  and  a  dozen  crowded 
around  her  at  once. 

"^Are  you  ill?"  inquired  one. 

"  Or  displeased  with  the  ball  ?"  said  another. 

*'  Or  grown  exceedingly  sober  of  late,  and  wish  to  keep 
good  hours?"  added  a  third. 

"None  of  these,  I  assure  you,"  answered  Kate. 

"  What  is  it  then?"  asked  a  fourth. 

"  Oh,  I  see  through  it,"  cried  a  fifth,  a  young  man,  rub- 
4  /S 


50  KATE   CLAEENDON. 


bing  his  hands  together,  in  a  manner  expressive  of  mirth 
ahout  to  be  enjoyed  :  "  I  see  through  it.  She's  not  been 
herself  the  whole  evening;  and  I  can  guess  the  cause.' 

"  Out  with  it,  then,"  cried  one. 

"Shall  I  tell,  Kate?"  asked  the  young  man,  with  a 
leer,  and  smilino;  miscliievouslv. 

"Certainly,"  replied  our  heroine,  a  little  sarcastically; 
"  If  you  know  anything,  tell  it,  and  put  these  anxious 
friends  out  of  suspense.  Don't  you  see  they  are  dying 
for  vour  knowledf^e  ?" 

"  Yes,  let  us  have  it,  Charley,  do  !"  put  in  a  merry  girl 
of  sixteen. 

"  Vvniy,  then,"  said  Charley,  making  his  face  long  and 
serious,  "you  must  know^,  my  most  worthy  friends,  that 
Miss  Kate  Clal^endon,  the  beautiful  being  here  before  you, 
has  had  a  quarrel  with  her  lover,  Mr.  Rashton  Moody,  and 
is  anxious  to  make  an  escape  early,  in  order  she  may  have 
time  and  opportunity  to  put  all  to  rights  again  before  she 
sleeps." 

A  hearty  laugh  followed  this  speech,  with  cries  of 
"  Good  !  good  !""  "  That  is  it,  for  the  world  !"  "  Stupid 
we  did  not  see  it  before." 

The  features  of  Kate  flushed,  an  angry  frown  gathered 
on  her  brow,  her  eyes  flashed,  and  she  bit  her  lips  in  sheer 
vexation. 

"  The  gentleman  informant,"  she  said,  with  a  touch  of 
severity,  "always  was  remarkable  for  his  penetration; 
and  I  have  no  doubt  he  could  sec  completely  through  a 
jnill-stone,  as  we  say  in  the  East — provided,  that  is,  there 
were  a  hole  through  it  eight  inches  in  diameter.  For 
once,  however,  allow  me,  who  ought  to  know,  to  say,  with 
all  deference  to  his  superior  judgment,  that  he  is  most  de- 
cidedly mistaken.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  wish  you  all 
a  happy  evening !"  and  turning  upon  her  heel,  abruptly, 


THE   VILLAIN   UNMASKED.  61 


Kate,  with  a  dignified,  but  graceful  step,  moved  away,  md 
disappeared  from  the  department.  Each  of  the  group 
looked  at  each  other  in  surprise,  and  with  a  crest-fallen 
countenance  ;  for  not  one,  by  his  or  her  innocent  jest  and 
laugh,  had  dreamed  of  giving  offence. 

Moody,  who  a  little  apart  had  watched  the  whole  pro- 
ceedings, at  once  took  an  abrupt  leave,  and  hastened  after 
Kate  ;  and  presently  both  were  mounted,  and  riding  over 
the  plain  toward  the  house  of  the  latter. 

The  atmosphere  was  very  clear,  and  the  bright  moon, 
which  had  risen  an  hour  before  their  departure,  shed  a 
soft  lustre  over  all,  and  bathed  the  deep  forest  of  the  plain 
in  a  flood  of  mellow  light— which,  as  it  came  crinkling 
through  the  slightly  rustling  leaflets  overhead,  and  fell 
upon  the  soft  earth  like  quivering  beads  of  quicksilver, 
made  the  scene  superbly  enchanting.  For-  some  distance 
nothing  was  said ;  and  the  hollow  trampling  of  the  horses' 
feet,  the  snapping  of  some  dry  twig,  the  sighing  of  the 
forest,  and  the  chirp  and  hum  of  the  night- watchers,  were 
the  only  sounds  that  broke  the  otherwise  death-like  still- 
ness. At  length  Moody,  desirous  of  starting  a  conversa- 
tion, said: 

"  Somehow,  Miss  Clarendon,  you  seem  low-spirited  to- 
night, and  have  left  the  party  earlier  than  is  your  wont. 
Has  anything  of  importance  transpired  to  mar  your  happi- 


ness 


?' 


"  I  cannot  say  there  has,"  replied  Kate,  briefly. 

"'Then  why  not  be  gay,  as  usual?" 

^'People  do  not  feel  at  all  times  alike,  and  I  suppose  I 
have  a  right  to  be  serious  occasionally." 

"  Oh,  certainly.  Miss  Clarendon ;  no  one  has  a  better 
right.  I  merely  spoke,  because  I  take  a  deep  interest  in 
your  happiness." 


62  KATE    CLARENDOX. 

^'  Indeed,  sir  !  Oh,  I  was  not  aware  of  that,'*  answerel 
Kate,  in  a  tone  of  provoking  coolness. 

Moody  bit  his  lips,  and  moved  nervously  on  his  saddle, 
for  he  felt  severely  the  sting  of  her  words. 

*'I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  at  length,  "that  you  have  not' 
ere  this  discovered  the  motive  I  had  in  addressing  you ; 
and  that,  of  all  others,  it  should  surprise  you  that  I 
sought  your  happiness." 

Kate  made  no  reply ;  and  after  waiting  for  one  a  few 
moments,  Moody  resumed : 

"  You  must  have  perceived,  Miss  Clarendon,  or  at  least 
you  should  have  been  aware,  that  my  attentions  to  you 
thus  long,  have  not  been  attentions  of  mere  gallantr}^,  but 
have  sprung  -from  deeper  and  I  trust  more  sacred  feel- 
ings." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  replied  Kate,  in  the  same  in- 
different tone  she  had  hitherto  used,  "  I  have  never 
troubled  myself  enough  about  the  matter  to  perceive  any- 
thing of  the  kind." 

"  What  am  I  to  understand  from  this  ?" 

"  Whatever  you  choose." 

Again  Moody  bit  his  lips,  and  remained  for  a  short  time 
silent ;  during  which  he  ppvssed  an  open  spot  in  the  forest, 
where  the  moon  shone  full  upon  his  face,  and  exhibited 
features  now  grown  dark  and  fearful  with  a  thousand 
angry  thoughts,  over  which  played  a  bitter,  sinister  smile. 

"If  I  conjecture  rightly,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  my  com- 
pany must  be  most  disagreeable  to  you." 

"You  might  be  more  in  error,"  was  the  consoling  reply. 

"  Then  wherefore  have  you  silently  encouraged  me  so 
long?"  why  have  you  not  made  this  manifest  before  ?" 

"  Perhaps  there  has  been  no  occasion  for  my  doino-  so." 

"  I  see  how  it  is  :  you  have  coquetted  me,  and  led  me 
to  make  a  fool  of  myself." 


TJIE    TILLAIX     UX.MASKED.  5 


o 


"  You  are  quick-sighed." 

"Not  uncommonly  so,  or  I  should  have  seen  through 
your  base  artifice  ere  this.". 

"Sir!"  said  Kate,  angrily;  "your,  language  is  unbe- 
coming a  gentleman ;  and  if  you  cannot  carry  a  more 
civil  tongue  in  your  head,  I  pray  you  leave  me,  and  I  will 
find  my  way  home  myself." 

"Not    so  fast,  my  lady,  for  I    design  doing    no  such 
thing;  and  moreover,  my  language,  which  you  are  pleased 
to  think  uncivil,  is  only  in  keeping  with  your  own." 
"You  wish  to  quarrel  Vfith  me,  sir!" 
"Not  at  all;  I  wish  to  treat  you  as  a  lady,  if  you  will 
allow  me  to  do  so." 

"  Then  why  not  cease  your  conversation,  and  continue 
silent?" 

"  Because  I  do  not  choose  to  do  so." 
"Indeed!" 

"Ay,  Miss  Clarendon,  indeed!" 

"  Then."  rejoined  Kate,  pettishly,  "  I  will  allow  you 
the  estimable  privilege  of  conversing  with  yourself,  while 
/remain  a  listener  only." 

"Nay,  but  you  must  talk  also,"  returned  Rashton,  rid- 
ing up  close  to  her  side,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  her 
bridle-rein. 

*  How,  sir  I  what  means  this  ?"  cried  Kate,  indignantly, 
not  without  some  alarm,  however. 

"I  say  you  must  talk  also,"  replied  Moody,  coolly. 
"  Ha  !  you  would  force  me  to  talk,  eh  ?" 
"I  simply  said  you  must,  answered  the  young  man,  with 
a  strong  emphasis  on  the  last  word. 

"What  would  you  have?"  asked  Kate,  her  heart  now 
fluttering  with  a  strange,  undefinable  fear. 

"  I  would  hold  a  conversation  on  what  has  now  become, 
to  me  at  least,  a  grave  subject." 


r,:^ 


64  KATE    CLARENDON. 


"  And  that  is " 

"  Love." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  humor  to  talk  now  on  what  I  do  not 
understand." 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,  it  is  easily  comprehended." 

"  Well,  sir,  what  would  you  say  ?" 

"  That  I  love  you." 

''  Umph  !  your  actions  show  it." 

"  Ay,  I  agree  with  you,  they  do  show  it,  in  everything 
I  do.  Think  you,  if  I  did  not  love  you.  Miss  Clarendon, 
I  would  have  sought  your  company,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
other?" 

"  May  be  so — like  things  are  often  done." 

"  Not  by  one  of  my  nature  and  temperament." 

"  As  to  that,  I  cannot  say ;  but  before  the  matter  goes 
any  further,  allow  me  to  observe,  that  if  you  love  me,  I 
am  sorry  for  it ;  as  there  is  no  reciprocity  of  feeling,  and 
consequently  can  be  no  encouragement  on  my  part  given." 

"  Is  this  really  so  ?"  rejoined  Moody,  with  something 
like  a  sigh. 

"  Really  so,  I  assure  you." 

"  It  pains  me  to  hear  it,  for  I  had  hoped  it  were  other- 
wise.    But  tell  me  candidly — do  you  love  another  ?" 

"  That,  I  suppose,  I  have  a  right  to  keep  secret." 

"  And  that,  on  the  same  principle,  I  feel  I  have  a  right 
to  know." 

"  I  am  not  aware,  sir,  what  constitutes  your  right  to 
any  such  knowledge,"  answered  Kate,  drily. 

"  That  matters  not ;  but  again  to  the  question :  Do 
you,  or  do  you  not,  love  another?" 

I  decline  answering,  sir,"  replied  Kate,  haughtily ; 
"  but  whether  I  do  or  not,  understand  one  thing,  I  do  not, 
and  never  can,  love  3^ou." 

Again  Moody  bit  his  lips,  until  the  blood  almost  sprung 


TEE   ^^LLAIN   UNMASKED.  55 

through  ;  and  could  Kate  have  seen  the  dark,  devilish  ex- 
pression on  his  features  then,  she  would  have  trembled  with 
very  fear.  At  length  he  spoke;  but  in  a  voice  so  altered, 
and  husky,  that  she  started,  thinking  it  was  another  who 
addressed  her. 

"Weigh  well  your  words,  girl,"  he  said,  "and  beware 
of  their  import,  for  I  am  one  that  cannot  be  trifled  with  ! 
If  you  have  trifled  with  me  thus  far — if  you  have  led  me 
to  hope,  without  a  purpose,  save  to  make  an  idle  jest — then 
the  consequences  rest  with  yourself." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Kate,  in  some  trepi- 
dation. 

"  I  am  fully  aware  of  that — neither  do  you  know  me. 
I  am  not  a  foot-ball,  maiden,  to  take  quietly  the  kicks  of 
the  world,  merely  for  the  amusement  of  others.  I  am — • 
but  I  will  not  say  what ;  you  may  some  day  learn  to  your 
sorrow." 

"  This  is  strange  speech,  sir  !" 

"  Perhaps  it  is  to  you — to  me  it  is  simply  natural." 

"  But  at  what  do  you  aim,  Mr.  Moody  ?  Am  I  to  un- 
derstand that  you  threaten  me  ?" 

"  You  have  said  that  you  do  not,  and  never  can,  love 
me." 

*'I  repeat  it." 
'  "  Then  wherefore  did  you  lead  me  to  suppose  otherwise? 
— wherefore  did  you  encourage  my  addresses  V 

"  I  deny  that  I  did.  You  called  upon  me  at  different 
times — others  did  the  same — and  I  treated  you  as  I  did 
them,  civilly,  and  nothing  more.  Y"ou  never  asked  me  for 
my  company,  my  hand,  nor  ni}^  love ;  and  if  you  chose  to 
call,  it  was  not  my  place  to  tell  you  to  desist,  so  long  as 
you  behaved  yourself  as  a  gentleman.  I  have  yet  to  be 
informed,  sir,  that  the  calls  of  a  gentleman  upon  a  lady, 
are  tacit  acknowledgements,  on  her  part,  that  she  desires 


56  KATE    CLARExboN. 


him  above  all  others,  and  that,  as  a  matter  of  course,  she 
must  love  him,  and  yield  him  a  right  to  inquire  into  all 
her  thoughts  and  actions.  You  should  be  aware,  sir,  that 
it  is  the  duty  of  a  lady^  to  treat  with  respect  those  who 
call  upon  her,  provided  they  move  in  society  her  equals 
and  behave  themselves  properly,  whether  she  secretly  ad- 
mires them  or  not." 

"  And  to  this  duty,  then,  as  you  call  it,  I  suppose  I  am 
indebted  for  all  the  favors  I  have  received  at  your  hands  ?" 

*'  To  nothing  else,  I  assure  you." 

"  Had  I  known  this  in  time,  before  my  mind  was  fully 
set  upon  you — before  I  had  received  what  I  considered 
secret  encouragement  from  yourself,  that  my  passion  was 
returned — it  might  perhaps  have  saved  us  both  a  world  of 
trouble.  But  it  is  too  late  now ;  and,  as  I  said  before,  the 
consequences  must  rest  with  yourself.  To  be  plain,  Kate 
Clarendon,  I  love  you — love  you  with  a  wild,  burning,  con- 
guming  passion,  that,  unless  I  can  attain  my  object,  will 
destroy  me." 

"  But  I  do  not  love  you,  and  that  should  be  sufficient  to 
destroy  that  passion." 

"  It  is  not,  though.  You  maybe  as  cold  as  marble,  and 
yet  ray  passion  for  you  will  be  unabated ;  in  sooth,  if  any- 
tliing,  niethinks  its  fires  would  burn  more  fiercely,  or  be 
smothered  for  a  time,  only  to  burst  out  in  a  terrible,  de- 
vouring, destructive  flame.  No,  Kate,  the  die  is  cast; 
there  is  no  alternative — you  must  be  mine  !" 

"Never!"  cried  Kate,  energetically. 

''Nay,  be  not  too  sure  of  that.  I  have  staked  my  all 
upon  it,  and  it  is  life  or  death.  You  little  know  the  nature 
of  him  now  by  your  side,  girl.  Sooner  than  you  should 
escape  me,  and  be  another's,  I  would  bury  a  knife  in  your 
heart,  draw  it  forth,  and,  with  the  blood  still  warm  upon 


THE   VILLAIN   UNMASKED.  57 

the  blade,  plunge  it  into  mj  own,  and  thus  perish  with 

you." 

"  Oh,  Heaven!"  cried  Kate,  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands  ;  "  you  chill  my  blood  with  horror." 

*'I  cannot  help  it.  I  must  let  you  know  the  conse- 
quences of  a  refusal.     Be  mine,  or  die !" 

*'Let  us  talk  no  more  of  this  now,"  said  Kate,  shud- 
derino;. 

"Ay,  but  now  is  the  time;  an  opportunity  for  such  con- 
versation may  not  soon  present  itself  again,  and  the 
moments  must  be  improved  as  they  pass." 

While  conversing  thus,  the  two  had  been  riding  steadily 
forward,  and,  just  at  this  moment,  a  glimpse  of  Kate's 
residence  could  be  seen  through  the  trees.  Never,  to  her 
eyes,  had  it  looked  so  enchanting  as  now ;  so  eager  was 
she  to  escape  from  her  companion,  whose  strange,  wild 
language,  was  well  calculated  to  alarm  her.  A  movincr 
light,  flashing  through  the  window  of  the  cottage,  assured 
Kate  that  some  one  was  astir ;  and  instantly  she  felt  her 
spirits  rise,  and  her  courage  revive. 

"  See  !"  she  cried,  in  something  resembling  her  usually 
light,  silvery  tone;  "we  are  almost  back  to  the  race- 
ground.  Yonder  light  must  be  carried  by  Icha.  Poor 
soul !  he  always  waits  up  for  his  little  pet,  as  he  calls  me." 

"  The  more  reason,  then,  that  we  should  not  be  in  a 
hurry,"  returned  Moody,  taking  hold  of  Kate's  rein,  and 
stopping  both  horses. 

"How,  sir !  what  means  this  ?"  cried  Kate,  angrily,  and 
in  some  alarm. 

"  It  means,  girl,  that  I  am  determined  to  improve  the 
present  opportunity,  to  bind  you,  by  a  solemn  oath,  to  my- 
self." 

"  Are  you  mad,  sir,  to  talk  thus  ?  Do  you  think  that  I 
am  the  person  to  tamely  submit  to  your  insults  in  this 


58  KATE    CLARENDON". 


manner  ?  Unhand  that  rein,  sir !  or  I  will  raise  an  alarm 
that  will  bring  to  me  such  aid  as  will  chastise  you  for  your 
presumption." 

"Nay,  speak  not  so  haughtily ;  you  are  not  yet  out  of 
my  power,"  returned  Moody,  in  a  low,  determined  tone, 
"  If  you  wish  to  behold  your  friends  again,  with  honor, 
swear  you  will  be  mine,  and  your  road  is  free — otherwise, 
(and  he  grasped  her  rein  more  tightly,)  you  shall  know 
what  a  bold  man  may  dare." 

"  Swear  to  be  yours,  I  never  will,"  answered  Kate,  ''let 
the  result  be  what  it  may." 

"By  heavens!  then,"  said  Moody,  "you  see  not  the 
inside  of  yon  cottage  again." 

As  he  spoke,  he  struck  both  horses  with  his  riding-whip  ; 
and,  as  the  fiery  beasts  reared  under  the  smart,  and  at- 
tempted to  rush  forward,  he  suddenly  wheeled  their  heads 
in  a  direction  opposite ;  and  would  have  dashed  into  the 
mazes  of  the  great  forest,  had  not  Kate  suddenly  uttered 
a  prolonged  and  piercing  shriek,  and,  with  the  agility  of 
an  accomplished  equestrienne,  disengaged  herself  from  the 
saddle,  slid  to  the  ground,  and  darted  away  toward  the 
cottage.  Perceiving  that  she  had  escaped  him.  Moody 
reined  in  his  horse,  leaped  to  the  ground  himself,  and  in- 
stantly gave  chase.  Kate  now  uttered  shriek  upon  shriek, 
and  sped  forward  with  all  her  might ;  but  her  dress  soon 
became  entangled  with  the  shrubbery ;  and  in  another  mo- 
ment an  arm  of  Moody  was  thrown  around  her,  and  a 
hand  placed  upon  her  mouth. 

"Fiends  seize  me,"  he  cried,  "if  you  escape  me  now, 
though  all  hell  were  in  pursuit  !"  and  lifting  her  as 
though  she  were  an  infant,  he  instantly  sped  back  to  his 
horse,  and  attempted  to  remount ;  but  the  struggles  of 
Kate,  and  the  uneasiness  of  his  beast,  prevented  him. 

By  this  time,  lights  were  seen  flashing  near  the  cottage, 


THE  VILLAIN    UNMASKED.  59 


and   distant  voices  were   heard,  lending  hope   to  the  one 
and  despair  to  the  other. 

^'  Too  late,  I  see,"  growled  Moody;  "  then  there  is  no 
alternative ;"  and  instantly  a  long,  bright  blade  flashed  in 
the  moonlight,  above  the  head  of  our  heroine. 

Kate  saw  and  shrunk  away  from  it,  with  an  agonizinor 
shriek ;  but  this  could  not  save  her ;  she  still  saw  it  gleam- 
ing— already  was  it  on  its  descent — and  she  shut  her  eyes 
in  horror,  and  thought  her  fate  was  sealed.  Already  was 
it  near  her  heart — a  second  more,  and  her  spirit  would  be 
flown — when  suddenly  it  was  checked  by  some  obstruction; 
and  the  next  moment  Kate  found  herself  released,  and 
the  villain,  who  had  sought  her  life,  stretched  upon  the 
ground. 

She  looked  up,  and,  in  the  dim  light,  which  the  moon 
made  among  the  trees,  saw  the  tall,  shadowy  form  of  the 
Necromancer  standing  over  her. 

"  Girl,"  said  the  strange  being,  "  thy  destiny  is  not 
thus  to  die.     Arise  !" 

"  God  bless  you,  sir  !"  cried  Kate,  springing  to  her  feet, 
and  grasping  his  rough  hand  with  a  warm  pressure,  while 
tears  of  joy  started  to  her  eyes.  *'  God  bless  you,  Lu- 
ther." 

^' I  did  not  save  thee,  girl;  it  was  a  higher  Power," 
said  the  other,  solemnly ;  and  he  raised  his  bare  arm 
majestically  in  the  moonlight,  and  his  fore-finger  pointed 
upward. 

At  this  moment  Moody  gave  a  groan,  and  rose  into  a 
sitting  posture. 

"  Villain  !"  cried  Luther,  seizing  him  by  the  collar,  and 
jerking  him  to  his  feet :  "  Villain  !  did  I  not  know  that 
thou  wert  sent  here  as  a  messenger  of  evil,  to  fulfill  the 
decrees  of  fate,  I  would  crush  thee  as  a  worthless  worm  !" 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Moody,  starting  back,  and  gazing 


60  KATE    CLARENDON. 

upon  the  other,  for  a  moment,  while  his  whole  frame 
shook  with  fear  :  **  Blind  Luther  !  you  here  ?  I  thought 
you  far  away." 

"I  told  thee,"  rejoined  the  Necromancer,  almost  fiercely, 
*'  it  was  my  unenviable  destiny  to  be  near  thy  evil  deeds — 
to  follow  thee,  as  the  carrion-eater  the  wounded  wolf." 

"  This  way,"  said  a  voice,  which  Kate  instantly  re- 
cognized as  her  father's ;  and  with  a  cry  of  joy,  she 
sprung  toward  him,  and  the  next  moment  was  clasped  in 
his  arms  ;  while  Ichabod,  his  companion,  exclaimed,  in 
alarm : 

"  Why,  darling  pet,  what's  happened  ?" 

"  Ay,  what  means  this  ?  and  who  are  those  I  hear  yon- 
der ?"  inquired  her  father,  anxiously. 

Kate  instantly  proceeded  to  detail  what  had  occurred, 
in  as  few  words  as  possible ;  but  ere  she  had  concluded,  her 
father  sprung  forward,  exclaiming  : 

"  Where  is  the  villain  ?" 

Moody  would  have  fled,  but  for  the  iron  grasp  which 
Luther  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  the  imperative  com- 
mand: 

"  Stay  !  and  behold  your  victim." 

As  Clarendon  caught  sight  of  Moody,  he  strode  up  to 
him  like  a  madman,  and,  seizing  him  by  the  collar,  smote 
him  on  his  face,  several  times,  with  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

'^  Now  go,  disgraced  and  worthless  dog !"  he  said,  re- 
leasing him ;  "  and  tell  your  friends,  if  you  have  any, 
that  you  are  as  far  beneath  them,  as  Hell  is  beneath 
Heaven  !" 

For  something  like  a  minute.  Moody  stood  overpowered 
with  rage  ;  his  dark  eyes  darting  forth  fiery  gleams,  like 
those  of  an  enraged  wild  beast;  his  hands  clenched,  his 
teeth  grinding  together,  and  white  foam  issuing  from  his 
lips.     Then  he  started,  with  a  howl  of  fury,  and  felt  for 


THE   yiLLAIX    UX^rASKED.  61 

his  knife,  \\'hich,  fortunately,  was  not  about  him.  Find- 
ing he  was  foiled  in  every  way,  he  turned  upon  his  heel, 
and  shouting  hoarsely,  I  will  be  revenged  !"  darted  out 
of  sight. 

"  He  prophesies,  and  speaks  the  truth  I"  said  the  Necro- 
mancer, solemnly. 

"  Strange  man,  I  thank  you,  with  my  whole  soul !"  said 
Clarendon,  advancing  to  Luther  and  grasping  his  hand. 
"  You  have  saved  the  idol  of  my  heart — my  more  than 
life." 

''  Would  I  could  the  latter,  as  the  former,"  replied  the 
Necromancer,  mysteriously. 

"  What  mean  you  ?" 

"  Full  of  life  and  hope  tbou  must, 
Early  seek  thy  native  dust," 

was  the  no  less  mysterious  answer  of  Luther. 

"  I  pray  you  be  more  lucid  in  your  explanation  ;  if.  as  I 
doubt  not,  your  words  hold  a  meaning,"  said  Clarendon.  * 

"  Oh,  yes,  do,  now,"  said  Ichabod,  coaxingly,  approach- 
ing the  fortune-teller ;  *'  do,  now,  tell  us  what  you  mean, 
good  Mr.  Luther,  and  I'll  see  that  you  get  good  fare,  as 
long  as  you've  a  mind  to  stay  with  us,  if  it's  to  next 
January." 

Luther  drew  up  his  form  erect,  and  waving  his  hand  with 
dignity,  replied : 

"For  whom  the  scroll  is  filled  and  sealed 
The  future  may  not  be  revealed — 
Other  than  that  which  now  you  hear: 
When  the  new  moon  shall  be  near, 
One,  whose  blood  now  warmly  flows, 
Shall  in  death  find  Siern  repose : 
When  the  earth  drinks  blood  and  rain, 
Some  shall  see  this  form  again; 
Then  a  child  can  tell  the  tale, 
Over  which  now  hangs  a  vail." 

'' What  light  is  that  yonder  ?"  added  Luther,  pointimg 
toward  the  dwelling  of  Clarendon,  as  he  concluded  his  mys- 
terious rhymes. 

6 


62  KATE   CLARENDON. 


Each  looked  in  the  direction  indicated,  but  saw  no- 
thino-;  and  turnino;  round,  Clarendon  was  about  to  ask 
the  Necromancer  what  he  meant,  when,  to  his  aston- 
ishment, he  found  the  hitter  had  disappeared.  He  called 
his  name  several  times,  in  a  loud  voice,  but  no  answer  was 
returned.  Ichabod,  determined  that  the  Necromancer 
should  not  escape  without  his  full  quota  of  thanks,  at  once 
darted  into  the  surrounding  bushes,  and  sought  him  in 
every  direction,  but  in  vain. 

"I  am  half  inclined  to  be  superstitious  myself,"  said 
Clarendon.  "  But  come,  darling  Kate,  let  us  return  on 
foot  by  ourselves,  while  Ichabod  looks  after  Marston  ;" 
and  taking  the  hand  of  his  daughter  in  his  own,  both  set 
off  toward  the  cottage,  pondering  upon  the. villainous  con- 
duct  of  Moody,  and  the  strange  appearance,  disappearance, 
and  lancruatie  of  the  Necromancer. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

THE    PROPHECY   FULFILLED. 

The  sky  grew  darker.     Soon  came  booming  on 

The  (ieep-voicecl  thunder;  whilst  at  distance  rolled 

The  wild  winds'  dirge-like,  and  yet  tempest  tone; 
And  lightning's  evanescent  sheets  of  gold 

Burst,  in  their  anger,  from  the  clouds'  huge  fold. — T.  D.  ExVGLISH. 

Is  there  a  crime 
Beneath  the  roof  of  Heaven,  that  stains  the  soul 
Of  men  with  more  infernal  hue,  than  damn'd 
Assassination  ? — Gibber. 

Dead  !  dead!  ay,  dead! — forever  dead  to  those 
That  loved  him'l  *  *  *  * 

At  an  early  hour  on  the  morning. succeeding  the  night 
of  events  just  detailed,  Ichabod  Longtree,  who  being  in  his 
wav  something  of  a  gossip,  was  stirring  betimes,  that  he 
might  be  first  with  his  wonderful  news  among  the  villagers. 
With  a  mysterious  air,  and  sundry  additions  and  embel- 
lishments, where  he  thought  them  necessary,  he  told  his 
tale  to  a  gaping  crowd,  who,  with  feelings  of  indignation 
too  deep  for  words,  at  once  proceeded  to  the  residence  of 
Moody,  with  the  intention  of  punishing  him  according  to 
his  deserts.  Had  they  found  him,  under  the  excitement 
they  were  then  laboring,  it  is  more  than  probable  the  aflfair 
would  have  had  a  tragical  termination  ;  but  he  was  gone, 
and  no  one  knew  whither,  so  that  pursuit  was  out  of  the 
ouestion.  The  whole  matter  created  a  great  sensation, 
and  was  a  Common  topic  for  several  days. 

As  a  story  loses  nothing  by  being  repeated,  particularly 
when  it  borders  on  the  marvelous,  so  the  tale  in  question, 
as  it  went  from  one  to  another,  became  distorted  to  a  won- 

(63)    • 


64  KATE    CLAEENDOX. 


derful  degree — until  at  last,  an  old  ladv,  in  telling  it  for 
the  twentieth  time,  actually  vouched  for  the  truth  of  the 
assertion,  that  Moody  had  placed  the  knife  against  the 
heart  of  Kate,  and  was  pressing  with  all  his  strength  upon 
the  handle,  without  making  the  least  impression,  when  a 
dark  cloud  suddenly  enveloped  him,  and  Luther  appeared 
in  a  flame  of  fire,  and  seized  and  bore  him  off,  amid  terrible 
thunderings,  and  the  most  awful  shrieks  of  woe  that  mortal 
ear  ever  heard. 

As  for  Kate  herself,  her  gay  spirits  seemed  suddenly  to 
have  left  her.  She  grew  reserved  and  silent,  and,  withal, 
not  a  little  melancholy.  In  vain  her  friends — wdio,  after 
the  events  we  have  detailed,  flocked  to  see  her  in  numbers 
— tried  to  enliven  her  by  their  conversation,  and  frequent 
sallies  of  wdt.  She  said  little  to  any  ;  and  if  she  smiled  at 
all,  it  was  one  of  those  wan  smiles,  which,  contrasting  as  it 
did  so  forcibly  with  her  former  ringing  laugh,  was  really 
painful  to  observe.  From  a  laughing,  frolicsome,  light- 
hearted  girl,  she  seemed  changed  to  a  serious,  thoughtful 
"^'oman ;  and  all  so  suddenly,  as  to  make  it  rather  marvel- 
ous. It  was  evident  that  something  preyed  upon  her  mind, 
and  depressed  her  spirits ;  and  many  were  the  conjectures 
concerning  it.  Some  hinted  that  she  loved  Moody,  and 
that  his  base  actions  had  destroyed  her  confidence  in  him ; 
and  though  she  had  torn  him  forever  from  her  heart,  yet 
there  had  been  left  an  aching  void,  from  which  time  alone 
could  relieve  her.  Others  said  it  was  owing  to  the  fright 
she  had  received,  and  that  in  a  few  days  she  would  be  her- 
self again.  But  these  were  conjectures  only,  for  Kate 
kept  her  secret  close  locked  in  her  own  breast ;  and  when 
questioned  on  the  matter,  she  ever  managed  to  answer  in 
such  a  way  that  none  were  made  the  wiser  for  it. 

Thus  matters  ran  along  for  several  weeks  ;  and  flowery 
spring  was  just  taking  leave  of  the  year,  to  give  bright 


THE    PROPHECY   FULFILLED.  65 

summer  her  accustomed  place  and  reign  over  the  advancing 
golden  harvest.  Since  that  eventful  night,  Rashton  Moody 
had  never  been  seen  nor  heard  of  by  any  of  the  villagers ; 
and  the  circumstances  connected  with  his  disappearance, 
having  been  discussed  time  and  again,  were  now  becoming 
worn  out  topics,  of  but  little  interest  to  any.  Luther,  too, 
had  not  since  made  his  appearance,  and  it  was  doubted  by 
some  that  he  ever  would.  Danvers  and  Danbury  had  both 
called  upon  Kate,  separately,  some  two  or  three  times ;  but 
finding  their  reception  very  cold,  had  at  last  given  up  their 
visits,  in  despair  of  ever  being  able  to  win  her  affections. 

It  was  about  this  time,  say  some  six  weeks  from  the 
night  of  the  ball,  that  Kate  Clarendon  and  her  mother  were 
seated  a  little  apart,  in  their  own  dwelling,  engaged  upon 
some  coarse  sewing.  The  night — for  it  was  an  early  hour 
in  the  evening — was  very  dark ;  and  now  and  then  a  flash 
of  lightning,  followed  b^  the  rumbling  sound  of  distant 
thunder,  together  with  a  cool,  damp  breeze,  which  blew 
steadily  from  the  west,  announced  that  a  shower  was  fast 
approaching.  For  some  time  mother  and  daughter  kept 
silence — both  intently  occupied  with  the  work  in  their 
hands — when  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning,  that  seemed  to 
crinkle  and  play  upon  their  needles,  made  them  involunta- 
rily start  together,  and  utter  exclamations  of  alarm. 

"How  near!  and  how  loud!"  cried  Mrs.  Clarendon,  al- 
luding to  the  lightning,  and  the  thunder  which  followed 
with  a  crashing  report  immediately  after.  "I  was  not 
aware  that  the  shower  was  so  near  us." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  father  would  come  !"  said  Kate;  "  I  always 
feel  so  gloomy  in  a  thunder-storm ;  and  so  frightened,  too." 

"  You  have  no  cause  for  being  frightened  now,  Kate," 
replied  Mrs.  Clarendon,  "more  than  at  any  other  time. 
We  are  all  in  the  hands  of  God,  at  all  times ;  and  are  just 
5  6* 


66  KATE   CLARENDON-. 


as  safe,  if  He  so  wills  it,  when  the  elements   are  in  dire 
commotion,  as  when  everything  is  clear  and  tranquil." 

"I  know  it,  mother;  but,  at  the  same  time,  I  cannot 
avoid  feeling  more  timid  when  I  behold  dark  clouds  lower- 
ing around  me,  darting  forth  their  angry  lightnings,  and 
hear  the  mighty  thunders  that  seem  to  shake  the  earth  be- 
neath them,  than  when  all  is  bright  and  clear." 

*'  It  is  natural,  ray  child,  that  we  should  feel  our  danger 
more  sensibly,  when  we  can  see  it ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  is 
no  nearer  us  at  such  times  than  at  others." 

"But  I  wish  father  would  come  !"  ♦rejoined  Kate,  rising, 
and  advancing  to  the  door.  *'  How  dark  !"  she  continued, 
as  she  gazed  forth ;  "  and  see  yon  cloud  !  how  angry  it 
looks  !     Hark  !  mother,  do  you  not  hear  a  roaring  sound  ?" 

"I  do,"  answered  Mrs.  Clarendon,  approaching  the  door 
herself  and  listening.  "  It  is  the  wind  and  rain  coming 
through  the  forest."  ^ 

"  How  mournfully  it  wails,"  sighed  Kate,  shuddering. 
**  Oh,  my  blood  feels  chilly  in  my  veins. '  It  seems  as  if 
Bomebody  were  dying,  and  this  were  the  funeral  dirge. 
Ha !  the  lightning  again  ! — how  fearful*'  exclaimed  she, 
starting  back,  as  at  the  moment  a  bright  flash  almost 
blinded  her ;  and  a  crash  of  thunder,  following  close,  made 
the  cabin  tremble  to  its  centre. 

"Better  stand  away  from  the  door,  Kate!"  said  the 
dame,  anxiously,  retreating  herself. 

"I  thought,"  replied  Kate,  "you  just  now  said  that  all 
times  and  places  were  alike  as  to  danger." 

"  I  said  we  should  not  fear,  child,  at  one  time  more  than 
another ;  that  we  were  all  in  the  hands  of  a  just  God,  who 
watches  over  us ;  but  I  did  not  say  it  would  be  right  to 
needlessly  expose  ourselves  ;  and  it  is  dangerous  standing 
in  a  door,  during  a  severe  thunder-storm,  from  the  tendency 
of  the  lightning  to  follow  a  current  of  air.     But  see — yon- 


THE    PROPHECY    FULFILLED.  67 

der!"  added  Mrs.  Clarendon,  pointing  towards  the  forest; 
*'  metbought  I  just  now  sa^v  the  figure  of  a  man ;  perhaps 
we  had  better  shut  and  bolt  the  door." 

"Oh,  it  is  Icha!"  exclaimed  Kate,  jovfullj.  as  at  the 
moment  another  flash  revealed  to  her  the"  tall,  ungainly 
form  of  the  gardener,  hurrying  forward  with  immensely 
long  strides.  "  Poor  Icha  is  afraid  of  a  drenching,  judging 
ov  his  movements ;  but  is  it  not  singular  that  I  did  not  see 
father  with  him  ?" 

"He  must  be  near,  though,  I  think,"  returned  the 
mother  of  Kate,  rather  uneasily,  moving  toward  the  door 
again  herself. 

A  few  large  drops  of  rain  now  began  to  patter  on  the 
leaves  of  the  trees,  and  on  the  roof  of  the  cabin ;  while  a 
loud  roaring,  like  that  of  a  near  water-fall,  announced  the 
body  of  the  shower  to  be  at  hand.  The  next  moment  Icha- 
bod  Longtree  came  bounding  into  the  room,  nearly  out  of 
breath,  bearing  a  rifle  on  his  shoulder. 

"V*"ell,  Icha,"  exclaimed  Kate,  hurriedly,  "where  is 
father?" 

"  Why,  isn't  he  here  ?"  asked  Ichabod,  in  reply,  looking 
round  the  apartment,  as  if  he  expected  to  behold  the  ob- 
ject of  inquiry. 

"Did  he  not  go  with  you?"  inquired  Mrs.  Clarendon, 
quickly,  slightly  turning  pale. 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  the  gardener,  "we  went  together, 
and  kept  together  till  near  dark,  when  he  said  as  how  he'd 
take  a  deer  I'd  just  then  shot,  and  start  for  home.  I 
'spected  to  find  him  here  when  I  come." 

"  Strange,"  said  Mrs.  Clarendon,  "  that  he  has  not  made 
his  appearance  !     How  long  since  you  parted  from  him  ?" 

"It's  more'n  two  hours." 

"  Indeed  !"  exclaimed  the  dame,  in  alarm  ;  "  so  long  ago, 
and  he  not  here  yet  I     How  far  off  was  he  then?" 


68  KATE   CLARENDON. 


"  Not  more'n  half  a  mile — ^jest  on  t'other  side  of  th3 
Miami." 

*'  I  fear  something  has  happened  to  him  !"  said  Kate. 

"  Maybe  he  gin  chase  arter  another  deer,  like  I  did," 
replied  Ichabod,  consolingly.  "  'Tisn't  best  to  be  alarmed, 
I  reckon." 

"  lie  would  not  be  likely  to  do  that,  I  think,  so  near 
night,"  observed  Mrs.  Clarendon,  in  some  trepidation. 
"I  fear,  with  Eate,  that  something  has  happened  of  a  se- 
rious nature.  Perhaps  he  has  been  killed,  or  captured  by 
the  savages ;  for  I  understand  one  or  two  have  lately  been 
seen  prowling  about  the  vicinity." 

"  God  forbid !"  cried  Kate,  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands ;  and  at  the  moment  the  words  of  the  Necromancer 
Beemed  ringing  in  her  ears. 

"  But  where  have  you  been,  Ichabod,  since  you  separated 
from  him  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Clarendon. 

"  Why,  ye  see,  w^e  both  on  us  started  out  for  to  hunt 
some  deer,"  answered  the  gardener ;  "  and  a  long,  dry 
chase  we  had  on't ;  for  somehow  the  pesky  critters  seemed 
to  know  we  were  arter  'em,  and  so  kept  out  'o  the  way.  I 
reckon  we  went  much  as  five  miles  up  the  Miami,  and  didn't 
see  one — though  we  seed  some  fresh  tracks  occasionally — 
and  so  we  concluded  we'd  gin  in  and  come  home.  When 
we  got  most  home,  say  half  a  mile  off,  we  somehow  stumbled 
on  to  one  that  hadn't  kept  quite  so  good  look-out  as  the 
rest,  and  him  I  shot  straightway.  This  started  up  another, 
that  looked  like  he  might  be  shot,  if  a  body  could  get  near 
enough  ;  and  so  I  told  Mr.  Clarendon,  that  if  he'd  see  that 
hom.e,  I'd  try  my  legs  and  ammunition  for  another.  He  said 
he  would ;  and  off  I  sot ;  and  a  confounded  long  chase  I 
had;  and  didn't  catch  it  at  last— ^the  scamp  of  a  critter 
that  it  was  !  and  when  I  got  started  coming  home,  I  found 


THE    PKOPFIECY   FULFILLED.  09 

it  gitting  right  dark.     I  'spected  he'd  be  here,  and  have 
some  on't  cooked  when  I  got  here,  sartin." 

By  this  time  the  rain  was  pouring  down  in  torrents,  the 
wind  blew  a  hurricane,  the  lightning  flashed  almost  inces 
santly,  and  the  thunder  came  peal  upon  peal,  with  terrific 
and  deafening  sound. 

"  Merciful  Heaven  !  he  could  not  live  in  such  a  storm  as 
this  !"  exclaimed  Kate.  "  Hark  !  that  crash  !  it  was  like 
a  falling  tree." 

"  Possibly  his  burthen  may  have  delayed  him,  and  finding 
the  shower  upon  him,  he  has  taken  shelter  in  the  hollow  of 
some  old  sycamore,"  suggested  Mrs.  Clarendon. 

"  But  you  forget,  mother,"  rejoined  Kate,  "  that  two 
long  hours  have  elapsed  since  Icha  left  him  ;  and  surely  he 
would  have  reached  home  before  this,  unless  something  had 
happened  of  a  serious  nature." 

"  Soon's  this  storm's  over,  I'll  start  off  in  sarch,"  said 
Ichabod. 

"Where  is  Bowler?"  asked  Kate,  quickly. 

"  He  went  with  him,"  replied  the  gardener 

"Ha!  a  happy  thought  strikes  me!"  exclaimed  Kate, 
with  animation.  "  The  noble  brute  will  obey  me  above 
all  others  ;  and  if  he  hears  my  voice,  he  will  come  hither 
immediately. 

"  Saying  this,  she  stepped  to  the  door  and  opened  it ; 
but  the  storm  was  raging  so  fiercely,  that  it  was  found  im- 
possible to  make  the  proposed  trial.  For  half  an  hour  the 
wind  and  rain  continued  unabated;  when  the  former  o-radu- 
ally  began  to  die  away,  and  the  latter  to  slacken  ;  while 
the  lightning  less  vivid,  and  the  thunder  more  distant,  told 
that  the  main  force  of  the  shower  had  passed.  It  was  now 
that  Kate  made  the  trial,  by  elevating  her  voice,  and  utter- 
ing a  clear,  musical  call,  that  could  be  heard  echoing  far 
away  through  the  forest.     All  listened,  but  heard  no  an- 


70  KATE   CLARENDON. 


swer.  Again  she  called,  but  still  deep  silence  followed. 
The  third  and  last  ti'ial  was  made  ;  when,  to  tlie  gratifica- 
tion of  each,  the  well  known  yelp  of  Bowler  was  heard  far 
av/av. 

"lie  comes!  he  comes!"  cried  Kate  and  her  mother 
joyfully,  in  the  same  breath. 

Another  call,  and  another  3^elp  succeeded — but  much 
nearer,  showing  that  the  brute  was  making  rapid  progress 
toward  them.  Presently  a  rattling  was  heard  among  the 
bushes  near  by;  and  the  next  moment  the  noble  animal 
came  bounding  forward,  shaking  the  wet  from  his  shaggy 
hair,  and  uttering  a  mournful  howl. 

"  Where  is  your  master,  Bowler  ?"  asked  Kate,  stooping 
down  to  pat  his  head. 

The  dog  looked  up  in  her  face,  as  if  conscious  of  what 
she  said  ;  and  then  gave  vent  to  a  low,  mournful  wliine, 
that  ended  at  last  in  a  loud,  dismal  howl,  which  made  the 
hearts  of  each  tremble  with  a  strange,  undefinable  fear; 
then  springing  away,  he  took  the  backward  track  and  dis- 
appeared, in  spite  of  the  calls  of  Kate  to  the  contrary. 

"  Oh,  God  !  I  fear  the  worst !"  she  exclaimed,  bursting 
into  tears. 

"  Don't  cry,  my  little  pet — don't !"  began  Ichabod,  con- 
solino-ly.  "  It  al'ays  makes  me  feel  agerish  to  hear  yod. 
I'll  go  straightway  and  hunt  up  your  father,  for  he  can't  be 

far  off." 

"  And  I  will  accompany  you,"  cried  Kate,  seizing  her 
hood  and  placing  it  on  her  head.  "  Come,  quick,  get  the 
lantern,  Icha,  and  let  us  be  moving  !" 

''  Dont't  go,  Kate  !"  said  her  mother,  uneasily  ;  '*  for  it 
is  certainly  imprudent  to  venture  forth  on  such  a  night, 
and  after  so  severe  a  storm.  Don't  go  !  for  it  can  do  no 
good,  and  will  only  delay  Ichabod." 


THE    PROPHECY    FULFILLED.  71 

"  Oh,  Yes,  K.atY,  pet,  don't  go  nov,- !"  added  Icbabod, 
coaxingly ;   '-and,  as  your  mother  says,  'tisn't  prudent." 

Kate,. however,  was  used  to  having  her  own  Avay,  when- 
ever she  insisted  on  it ;  and  as,  in  the  present  instance,  she 
had  resolved  on  going,  so  all  that  was  said  to  the  contrary 
■\s-as  said  in  vain. 

'"  Come,  Icha,  quick  now,  and  get  ready  !"  was  her  only 
reply  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  she  was  gliding  through  the 
wood,  close  upon  the  heels  of  her  serving  man,  who  bore 
in  one  hand  a  rifle,  and  in  the  other  a  lighted  lantern. 

The  course  of  our  friends  from  the  cottage  was  nearly 
due  east;  and  after  continuing  for  some  time  without  speak- 
ing, through  thick  tangles  of  brush,  that  saturated  them 
as  they  passed,  and  over  large  fallen  trees,  that  had  been 
uprooted,  or  broken  and  cast  down  by  the  storm — they 
reached  tlie  Miami  ;  whose  now  dark,  swollen,  and  turbulent 
waters  went  rushing  past  with  a  cheerless,  gloomy  sound, 
wdiich  struck  upon  the  ear  like  the  hollow  rattling  of  earth 
upon  a  coffin.  Luckily,  a  small  canoe,  kept  here  for  ford- 
ing the  stream  wdien  the  water  was  high,  was  found  hid 
amonfT  the  bushes  on  the  western  bank.  Placino;  this  upon 
the  stream,  Ichabod,  after  vainly  trying  to  persuade  Kate 
to  remain  or  return,  assisted  her  into  it,  and  shoved  across 
— not,  however,  without  some  risk,  as  the  current,  being 
strong,  rapidly  bore  them  down  several  yards,  before  they 
w^ere  able  to  effect  a  landing.  Reaching  the  other  bank  at 
length  in  safetj^  Kate  gave  another  call  to  Bowler,  which, 
to  her  gratification,  was  almost  immediately  answered.  A 
minute  after,  the  dog  came  bounding  up  to  hei', whining 
piteously  ;  and  then  immediately  darted  away,  and  up  the 
hill,  which  here  rose  somcv.diat  steep  above  her. 

"  Oh,  God  I"  exclaimed  Kate,  clasping  her  hands  in  an 
agony  of  mind  almost  unbearable ;  *'  I  know  the  worst  has 
happened  !  Heaven  give  me  strength  to  go  through  with  it !" 


72  KATE    CLAKENDON. 


"Let  us  forward,"  returned  her  companion,  in  a  voice 
slightly  faltering ;  and  taking  Kate  by  the  hand,  he  began 
to  ascend  the  hill  at  a  fast  gait. 

They  had  proceeded  about  a  hundred  yards  further, 
when  they  heard  a  deep  groan,  which  made  the  blood  of 
both  run  coldly  through  their  veins;  and  Kate,  placing  her 
hands  upon  her  heart,  to  still  its  wild  throbbings,  felt  a 
sickening  dizziness  come  over  her,  that  almost  took  aAvay 
the  power  of  motion. 

"I  can  go  no  further,"  she  gasped,  faintly;  "I  can 
scarcely  stand." 

"  Courage,  darling,"  whispered  Ichabod 

"  Help !"  cried  a  voice  just  above  them  ;  for  the  love  of 
mercy,  if  you  are  friends,  hurry  forward  !" 

"Who  be  you?  and  what's  the  matter?"  exclaimed 
Ichabod,  springing  up  the  steep,  and  dragging  Kate  after 
him,  more  dead  than  alive. 

"  Who  I  am,  matters  not,  save  that  I  am  friendly  to  the 
right,"  answered  the  strange  voice;  and  the  next  moment, 
the  light  carried  by  Ichabod  flashed  upon  the  comely  form 
and  face  of  a  young  man,  who  was  standing  alone,  rifle  in 
hand,  upon  a  huge  rock,  not  ten  feet  above  their  heads, 
his  handsome  figure  clearly  set  off  against  the  dark  back- 
ground beyond.  "  There  has  been  foul  play  here !"  he 
added,  solemnly. 

"Where?  where?"  cried  Ichabod. 

"  Just  above  me,"  answered  the  stranger,  springing  into 
a  thicket  of  bushes  close  behind  him. 

Ichabod  quickly  gained  the  thicket,  entered  it  with  Kate, 
and  the  next  moment  he  stood  beside  a  tall,  old  oak,  and 
saw  the  stranger  upon  his  knees,  bending  over  some  dark 
object  on  the  ground,  and  the  dog  running  to  and  fro,  and 
whining  mournfully.  Approaching  with  the  light,  Ichabod 
placed  it  in  a  position  to  reveal  a  horrid  spectacle.     As  he 


THE    PROPHECY   FULFILLED.  73 

did  so,  Kate  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and  sunk  down  insen- 
sible. 

''A  woman!"  exclaimed  the  stranger,  springing  to  his 
feet,  with  a  look  of  surprise ;  for  Kate  had  kept  so  much 
in  the  shade,  that,  until  now,  he  had  not  been  aware  of  the 
presence  of  one  of  the  opposite  sex.  '•  Great  Heaven ! 
what  a  shock  for  a  woman  !"  he  added,  stooping  down  and 
raising  her  in  his  arms — for  under  the  excitement  of  the 
moment,  Ichabod  thought  of  nothing,  saw  nothing,  but  the 
object  before  him. 

A  siorht  for  a  woman  indeed!  and  more,  a  sio;ht  for  an 
affectionate  daughter  !  Upon  the  ground,  his  back  partly 
supported  by  the  tree  before  mentioned,  lay  the  father  of 
Kate,  his  features  pale  and  ghastly,  save  where  they  were 
rendered  more  frightful  by  being  spotted  with  blood.  In 
his  breast  was  a  deep  wound,  and  another  in  his  abdomen, 
from  both  of  which  the  red  current  of  life  was  fiowincr 
freely,  and  his  vestments  were  already  stained  to  a  fright- 
ful extent.  Either  wound  was  mortal,  and  yet  Clarendon 
still  survived ;  though  a  few  gasps,  a  groan  now  and  then, 
and  a  rattling,  choking  sound  in  his  throat,  betokened  the 
rapid  approach  of  death. 

*'May  perdition  seize  the  fiend  that's  done  this  I"  cried 
Ichabod,  bending  over  the  prostrate  form  of  Clarendon, 
and  bursting  into  tears.  "  Speak  to  me,  Mr.  Clarendon, 
my  good  old  friend — speak  to  me,  and  tell  me  who  did  it !" 

A  groan  was  the  only  answer. 

"  It  might  ha'  been  you,  sir,  for  all  I  know,"  cried  Icha- 
bod, abruptly,  starting  up  and  turning  to  the  stranger,  who 
was  now  engaged  in  restoring  Kate  to  consciousness. 

"Had  I  done  it,  think  you  I  would  be  here  now  ?"  re- 
turned the  other,  sharply,  an  angry  flush  mantling  his  fine, 
noble  countenance. 

7 


74  KATE    CLARENDON. 

*'  How  comes  ^^clicrc  nt  all,  then?"  asked  Ichabod,  not 
•well  pleased  with  the  other's  answer. 

''  That  I  will  explain  to  your  satisfaction  some  other 
time,"  was  the  reply.  "Look  you,  now,  and  see  if  it  be 
possible  to  save  the  wounded  man!" 

There  was  a  ceitain  lofty  superiority  in  the  tone  and 
manner  of  the  speaker,  a  something  which  spoke  one  ac- 
customed to  command  and  be  obeyed,  that  completely 
over-awed  Ichabod,  and  dispelled  his  doubts  regarding  him ; 
and  he  turned  at  once  to  Clarendon,  to  see  if  it  were  pos- 
sible to  save  him.  As  he  bent  down  to  examine  his  wounds 
and  staunch  the  blood,  his  eye  fell  upon  a  piece  of  white 
paper,  pinned  upon  his  body,  on  which  was  writing  in  a 
legible  hand  ;  at  the  same  moment  the  wounded  man  gave 
a  groan,  a  gasp,  and  all  was  over.  Tearing  the  paper  from 
his  body,  Ichabod,  unable  to  read,  handed  it  to  the 
stranger,  saying : 

"  Here's  something,  that  maybe  you  can  tell  what  it 
means." 

"  Ha !  it  is  a  clue  to  the  mystery !"  exclaimed  the  other, 
as  his  eye  fell  upon  the  letters ;  and  he  read : 

"  '  So  shall  perish  all  my  enemies  !  Wo  to  them  that  hear 
the  name  of  the  dead!  Rashton  Moody.'  " 

"The  damnable  villain!"  ejaculated  Ichabod,  catching 
up  his  rifle,  which  was  leaning  against  the  oak.  "I'm  his 
sworn  foe,  straightway,  to  death  ;  and  if  we  ever  do  meet, 
which  Heaven  grant,  by  all  my  hopes  of  justice,  I'll  kill 
him  if  I  can  !" 

"Rightly  spoken,  sir, 'for  a  bold  man.  Henceforth  I 
am  your  friend.  Give  me  your  hand  !"  and  the  next  mo- 
ment the  hand  of  Ichabod  was  clasped  in  that  of  the 
btranger. 


THE     PROPHECY    FULFILLED.  75 

During  this  time,  the  stranger  had  been  supporting  Kate 
•with  his  left  arm,  and  chafing  her  temples  with  his  right 
hand  ;  and  he  now  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  lier  gradu- 
ally revive.  At  length  she  opened  her  eyes,  gazed  around 
her  with  a  bewildered  air,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  AVhere  am  I?  and  wjio  are  you,  sir?" 

*' You  arc  safe,  fair  lady,"  answered  the  stranger,  in  a 
mild,  soothing  tone,  very  different  from  the  one  in  which 
he  had  addressed  Ichabod.  "  You  are  safe,  maiden,  and 
in  the  hands  of  one  who  would  suffer  death  sooner  than  see 
harm  befall  you." 

*'  I  do  believe  he  says  true,  darling,"  observed  the  gar- 
dener. 

"  Ha  !  Icha :"  cried  Kate,  wildly,  her  consciousness 
fairly  regained  :  "  I  remember  now — my  father — where — 
what — oh,  God!"  and  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands, 
and  her  form  shook  convulsively. 

"Be  calm,  fair  maiden,"  said  the  stranger,  tenderly; 
"be  tranquil,  I  pray  you." 

Kate  made  a  sudden  bound,  sprung  from  his  arms,  and, 
ere  she  could  be  prevented,  threw  herself  upon  the  corpse 
of  her  father. 

"Oh!  father,"  she  exclaimed,  in  tones  of  anguish; 
"  father — speak  to  your  Kate  ! — speak  to  me  ! — What !  no 
answer  ! — he  never  refused  to  answer  me  before.  Great 
Heaven!  I  have  it  now! — he  is  dead!  Yes,  dead!  dead! 
dead!"  she  shrieked,  wildlv.  Then  she  burst  into  tears 
and  lamentations;  while  Ichabod  stood  and  gazed  upon 
her  like  one  stupefied;  and  the  stranger,  placing  his  hands 
to  his  eyes,  brushed  away  a  tear. 

"  I  hnve  seen  some  hard  scenes,"  he  said,  "but  none 
that  moved  me  like  this.  She  must  be  removed,"  he  added, 
touching  Ichabod  on  the  shoulder.  "  Gently,  my  worthy 
friend,  let  us  remove  her." 


76  "      KATE    CLARENDON. 

Ichabod  drew  a  long  sigh,  that  seemed  like  a  gasp,  and 
signified  his  assent  to  the  stranger's  proposition  by  simply 
nodding  his  head. 

*'  Come,  Kate,  my  darling  pet,"  he  said,  stooping  down 
to  her ;  let's  return,  and  I'll  see  to  having  your  father 
taken  care  on." 

"  Yes,  lad}'-,  do  !"  urged  the  stranger;  "and  I  pledge 
you  my  honor,  as  a  gentleman,  that  whatever  can  be  done, 
shall  be  done,  to  your  satisfaction,  in  all  that  pertains  to 
this  unfortunate  affair." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir,"  answered  Kate,  rising  slowly 
to  her  feet,  and,  by  a  master  effort,  commanding  her  feel- 
ings so  as  to  speak  somewhat  calmly  ;  "  and  I  feel  confident, 
from  your  look  and  voice,  that  you  can  be  trusted  fully. 
You  will  pardon  me,  I  trust,  for  my  wild  manner.  The 
loss  of  a  father,  and  one  so  affectionate,  (here  the  voice  of 
Kate  died  away  to  a  whisper,  and  she  placed  her  hand  to 
her  throat  as  if  to  prevent  strangulation,)  and — and — by 
foul  means  too — is  no  light  affair." 

"  It  is  terrible  !"  rejoined  the  stranger,  with  emotion  ; 
"  and  God,  who  sees  the  hearts  of  all,  knows  that  I  sympa- 
thize with  you  and  yours  most  deeply  ;  and  could  I,  by  any 
sacrifice,  ease  you,  fair  lady,  of  a  single  pang,  that  sacrifice 
should  be  freely  made." 

"  Tell — me — truly ; — he — he — is  dead — is  he — he  not  ?'*" 
gasped  Kate. 

The  stranger  bent  over,  felt  of  the  corpse  in  several 
places,  and  answered,  sadly: 

"  I  fear  he  is." 

For  a  moment  Kate  stood  with  her  hands  to  her  eyes, 
while  her  whole  form  shook  fearfully ;  then  withdrawing 
them,  she  said : 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  be  more  calm.     If  you  will  bear  the 


THE    PROPHECY   FULFILLED.  77 


body  of  my  father  to  the  cottage,  I  will  go  before  with  the 
light." 

A  look  of  surprise  and  admiration  lighted  up  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  stranger;  and  he  said,  as  if  to  himself: 

*'  She  who  can  so  command  herself  on  an  occasion  like 
this — show  so  much  nerve — can  be  no  ordinary  being. 
Lady,"  he  added  to  Kate,  respectfully,  "your  request 
shall  be  obeyed.  Come,  my  friend,"  he  continued,  touching 
Ichabod,  who  was  now  standing  with  his  hands  locked 
behind  him,  his  chin  dropped  upon  his  bosom,  his  eyes 
fastened  upon  the  dead,  and  apparently  heeding  nothing 
that  had  been  spoken  since  his  own  remarks  to  Kate  : 
*'  Come,  my  friend,  let  us  tarry  here  no  longer.  I  will 
assist  you  in  carrying  the  corpse  down  to  the  dwelling  of 
this  fair  lady." 

In  a  few  minutes  a  rough  kind  of  litter  was  prepared,  on 
which,  having  laid  the  mortal  remains  of  George  Claren- 
don, Ichabod  and  the  stranger,  preceded  by  Kate,  bore  it 
slowly  forward  down  the  descent.  Reaching  the  Miami,  the 
party  entered  the  canoe,  and  paddled  across  in  safety.  As 
they  w^ere  about  raising  the  litter  to  proceed  again,  the 
dog,  which  had  kept  them  company,  uttered  a  low  growl ; 
and,  at  the  same  moment,  a  deep  voice  was  heard  chanting : 

'"Where  the  parent  stem  is  broken, 
'Neath  the  tree  that's  old  and  oaken — 
"When  the  night-vrind  cool  is  blowing, 
O'er  the  life-blood  warmly  flowing — 
By  unchanging  Fate's  decree, 
And  Almighty  Destiny, 
One  shall  stand  thou  sawest  never, 
Yet  shall  see  and  love  forever. 

"Who  speaks  thus?"  inquired  the  stranger,  drawing  a 
pistol,  and  preparing  to  rush  into  the  thicket. 

"  One  who  knows  both  thee  and  the  future,"  answered 
Blind  Luther  the  Necromancer,  stepping  forth  from  his 
covert. 


78  KATE   CLARENDON. 

"I  know  not  you,"  returned  the  other,  haughtily,  *'nor 
why  you  appear  here  at  such  a  time,  chanting  such  mystic 
words.  A  foul  murder  has  just  been  done,  and  I  feel  my- 
self called  upon  to  arrest  aU  suspicious  persons  found  in 
the  vicinity.  Pardon  me,  sir,  if  I  now  arrest  you,  in  the 
name  of  the  commonwealth  of  these  United  States."  As 
he  spoke,  the  stranger  threw  open  an  oil-skin  coat,  and  dis- 
played the  uniform  of  a  military  officer.  Then  drawing  a 
sword  from  his  side,  he  laid  the  blade  upon  the  shoulder  of 
Luther,  and  added: 

"  You  are  my  prisoner." 

So  sudden  and  singular  was  this  last  proceeding,  that 
Kate  and  Ichabod  remained  for  a  moment  silent,  when  the 
former  found  her  voice  and  exclaimed : 

"  Harm  him  not,  sir,  I  pray  you  !  We  know  him,  and 
that  he  is  as  innocent  as  ourselves.  Luther,"  she  added 
to  him,  "I  fear  thou  art  a  bird  of  evil  omen.  Behold  !" 
and  she  pointed  to  the  dead. 

"I  am  a  messenger  of  truth,"  replied  Luther  ;  "  and 
yet  I  deeply  sympathize  with  you,  and  regret  the  decrees 
of  fate.  I  saved  your  life,  and  might  his,  had  it  been  so 
ordained."  Then  turning  to  the  young  officer,  who,  mean- 
time, had  sheathed  his  sword,  he  continued,  in  a  tone  of 
superiority:  "Boy,  you  might  as  well  arrest  the  wind! 
Think  you  I  would  go  with  you  against  my  will  ?  No, 
Egbert  Stanley,  you  have  mistaken  him  who  addresses  you." 

"  Ha  !"  ejaculated  the  officer  ;  "  you  know  me  then  ?" 

"You  !  ay — and  your  parents  before  you." 

"  My  parents  ?  heavens  !     Who  are  you,  pray  ? 

"Ask  your  friends." 

Stanley  turned  inquiringly  to  Kate. 

"We  know  him  as  Blind  Luther,  the  Necromancer,''  she 
mswered. 

"I  know  no  such  person,"  rejoined  Egbert. 


THE    PROPHECY   FULFILLED.  79 

"Do  you  know  yourself?"  asked  Luther 

A  flush  mantled  the  cheeks  of  the  young  officer,  as  he 
replied  : 

"  You  ask  a  strange  question,  sir." 

*'  Which  I  will  answer  for  you  in  the  negative,"  said 
Luther.     *'  You  know  neither  yourself  nor  your  parents." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  insult  me?"  cried  the  other,  reddening, 
and  somewhat  confused. 

"  I  wish  to  insult  no  man.  But  enough  !  you  shall  know 
more  in  time."  Then  turning  to  Kate,  he  continued;  ''As 
I  told  thee  before,  fair  damsel, 

*'When  sorrows  dark  do  weigh  thee  down 
Thou  shalt  behold  this  mystic  crown;" 

[Here  he  touched  the  band  around  his  head.] 

''And  in  the  depths  of  deepest  woe, 
The  mysteries  I  have  told  thee,  know; 
"What'er  thy  fortune,  nobly  bear, 
And  yield  thee  never  to  despair." 

"Again  I  told  thee,"  continued  the  Necromancer, 

"When  the  new  moon  shall  be  near, 
One  whose  blood  now  warmly  flows, 
Shall  in  death  find  stern  repose — " 

[Here  he  pointed  to  the  corpse.] 

"When  the  earth  drinks  blood  and  rain. 
Some  shall  see  this  form  again — " 

[Here  he  smote  his  breast.] 

"Then  a  child  can  tell  the  tale. 
Over  which  now  hangs  a  veil." 

"Behold  so  much  of  my  prophesy,  and  await  the  reveaU 
ings  of  the  great  future.     We  shall  all  meet  again, 

"  When  dark  storms  around  us  lower, 
Or  bright  sunehine  rulet  th«  hour." 


80  KATE   CLARENDON-. 


"  Farewell !"  and  as  he  concluded  speaking,  Luther 
sprung  into  the  thicket  and  disappeared. 

"A  strange,  eccentric  being,"  observed  young  Stanley, 
as  if  to  himself.  Then  motioning  Ichabod  to  assist  him,  he 
bent  down  to  raise  the  corpse.  The  rest  of  the  way  to  the 
cottage  of  the  deceased  was  passed  in  silence. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    BURIAL. 

Tkr  blight  of  hope  and  happiness 

Is  felt  when  fond  ones  part. 
And  the  bitter  tear  that  follows,  is 

The  life-blood  of  the  heart.— Fitz-Green  Hallecs. 

We  thank  you,  friends,  that  you  have  buried  our  dead  forever  from  our  sight. 
— The  Burial. 

It  is  needless  for  us  to  describe,  or  even  attempt  to  de- 
scribe, the  scene  which  followed  the  a^Yful  announcement 
to  Mrs.  Clarendon,  that  her  well-beloved  partner  for  life 
was  no  more — or  when,  too,  nearly  frantic  with  the  news, 
she  rushed  to  him,  and  beheld  him  all  gory  with  the  gene- 
rous blood  that  had  so  lately  warmed  his  veins.  And  even 
did  we  describe  it,  what  benefit  would  accrue  to  the  reader? 
Who  could  realize  the  heart-rending  agony,  but  such  as 
have  been  placed  in  similar  circumstances  ;  and  for  such,  no 
description  is  needed  ;  for  all  potent  and  poignant  memory 
will  too  forcibly  recall  the  eventful  past.  Suffice,  that  she 
was  nigh  distracted  with  grief,  and,  for  several  hours,  m  i- 
nifested  strong  symptoms  of  confirmed  insanit}'. 

The  day  following,  nearly  all  the  villagers,  who  received 
the  news  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  flocked  to  the 
house  of  mourninir,  to  behold  the  deceased,  and  condole 
with  the  living. 

As  Clarendon  came  to  his  death  in  a  manner  so  singular, 
it  was  judged  expedient  to  hold  an  inquest  over  the  body. 
For  this  purpose,  a  jury  was  speedily  collected,  consisting 
of  twelve  persons,  among  whom  were  two  physicians,  who 
at  once  proceeded  to  examine  the  body  minutely. 
6  (81) 


12  KATE    CLARENDON. 

Egbert  Stanley,  the  young  ofiicer,  who  had  remained 
)ver  nif^ht  at  the  cottage,  was  next  called  upon  to  state 
;vhat  he  knew  in  regard  to  the  affair,  and  hoAV  he  came  to 
dQ  found  with  the  deceased,  so  far  from  any  habitation, 
ilone,  at  such  a  time  of  night,  and  under  circumstances  so 
salculated  to  render  him  an  object  of  suspicion. 

The  jury  had  now  formed  a  circle  around  the  deceased, 
in  the  adjoining  apartment  or  cabin  ;  and  as  the  spokesman 
concluded,  each  turned  his  face  toward  Egbert,  who,  with 
some  five  or  six  other  spectators,  was  standing  just  without 
the  ring.     On  hearing  the  question  put,  he  started,  a  deep 
flush  mantled  his  features,  and  immediately  he  stepped 
within  the  circle,  and  with  one  hand  gently  touched  the 
dead.     He  was  a  noble-looking  young  man,  nearly  six  feet 
in  height,  with  handsome  proportions,  that  lost  nothing  of 
their  beauty  in  being  set  off  by  his  close-fitting  uniform. 
His  features  were  comely  and  very  expressive ;  and  there 
was  a  nobility  in  his  high,  broad  forehead,  surmaunted  by 
dark  brown  curls,  and  in  his  full  black  eyes,  which  forbade 
the  idea  that  he  could  be  guilty  of  a  mean  or  base  action. 
"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  calmly,  and  with  dignity,  moving 
his  eyes  slowly  around  the  circle,  and  resting  them  for  a 
moment  on  each  member :  "  Gentlemen,  you  have  heard 
me  called  upon   to  state  what  I  know  in  regard  to  this 
unfortunate  affair,  in  a  manner  calculated  to  leave  upon 
your  minds   the  impression  that  my  knowledge  was  not 
honestly  and  honorably  gained.     What  object  the  speaker 
had  in  addressing  me  in  the  way  he  did,  I  know  not,  but  shall 
call  upon  him  to  explain  hereafter ;  and  I  trust  his  answer 
will  be  satisfactory:  otherwise,  (here   he  gracefully   and 
lightly  touched  the  hilt  of  his  sword  with  his  right  hand, 
and  fixed  his  eyes  steadily  upon  the  one  alluded  to,  who 
quailed  before  his  glance,)  there  is,  thank  fortune  !  an  hon- 
orable way  of  settling  all  matters  of  a  similar  nature. 


THE    BURIAL.  83 


"  I  shall  now  proceed,"  he  continued,  "  to  state  the  facts, 
briefly  as  possible.     In  the  first  place,  as  you  will  perceive 
by  my  uniform,  I  am  in  the  service  of  the  Government.     I 
hold  a  lieutenant's  commission,  and  am  quartered  at  Cin- 
cinnati.    Some  few  nights  since,  word  was  brought  to  my 
commanding  officer,  that  a  body  of  Indians  was  prowling 
about  the  vicinity  ;  and  that,  unless  they  were  seen  to  in 
time,  serious  results  would  be  likely  to  follow.     Upon  this, 
I  was  immediately  ordered  to  head  a  detachment  of  ten 
picked  men,  and  scour  the  surrounding  country  ;  and  if  I 
found  no  Indians,  to  divide  and  send  my  men  out  sepa- 
rately as  scouts.     To  make  a  long  story  short,   my  men 
were  sent  out  in  every  direction,  one  after  another,  until  I 
was  left  entirely  alone.     Yesterday,  while  scouting  myself, 
I  reached  and  crossed  the  Little  Miami ;  and  was  on  my 
return  last  evening  to  the  garrison,  when,  finding  myself 
belated,    and  that  a  severe  storm  was  approaching,  I  as- 
cended  a   tree  to   await  the   appearance  of  a  clear  sky. 
While  in  the  tree,  I  several  times  fancied  I  heard  a  groan  ; 
but  thought  I  had  most  probably  mistaken  the  wailings  of 
the  storm,  which  Avas  then  raging  with  fury,  for  a  human 
voice.     When  the  storm  began  to  die  away,  I  descended  to 
the    ground,   for  the    purpose   of  resuming  my  journey. 
Scarcely  had  I  done  so,  when  I  heard  the  mournful  howl 
of  a   dog  near  by.     Thinking  there   must  be    something 
wrong,  I  hastened  in  the  direction  whence  the  sound   pro- 
ceeded.    I  had  not  gone  far,  when  I  heard  a  distant  call. 
Immediately  after,   the  dog,  with  a  yelp,  bounded   away. 
At  the  same  moment,  a  deep  groan  sounded  in  my  ear ; 
and  pressing  forward,  I  was  not  long  in  finding  the  cause 
in  the  person  of  the  deceased,  who  was  lying  upon  his  side, 
under  a  large  tree,  and  bleeding  profusely  from  a  couple 
of  wounds.     I  questioned  him  as  to  what  had  occurred,  but 
he  was  too  far  gone  to  answer.     I  endeavoured  to  staunch 


B4  KATE    CLAEENDON. 

■he  blood,  but  did  not  succeed  in  doins:  much  good.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  dog  returned  ;  and  shortly  after,  I  saw  a 
light  in  the  distance,  apparently  moving  toward  me. 
Steadily  the  light  approached,  and  at  length  I  espied  a 
couple  of  figures  with  it.  From  my  position,  I  was  after- 
waids  enabled  to  keep  them  in  view,  until  near  enough  to 
make  them  hear  my  voice ;  when  T  urged  them  to  hasten 
forward,  while  I  at  once  sprung  back  to  the  deceased. 
While  bending  over  the  wounded  man,  I  heard  a  shriek  ; 
ind  looking  around,  was  surprised  to  find  a  beautiful  female 
near  me,  on  the  ground,  in  a  sw^ooning  state.  I  hastened 
to  raise  her  in  my  arms ;  and  while  engaged  in  restoring 
ber  to  consciousness,  the  unfortunate  man  breathed  his 
last.  On  his  breast  was  found  this  paper;  which,  having 
perused,  and  taken  the  testimony  of  Miss  Clarendon  and 
tier  serving-man,  I  trust,  gentlemen,  you  will  fully  exone- 
rate me  from  even  a  suspicion  of  being  in  any  manner  con- 
cerned in  the  death  of  him  now  lying  before  you." 

As  Stanley  concluded,  he  presented  to  the  foreman  of 
:he  jury  the  paper  alluded  to,  which  the  reader  will  recol- 
lect as  the  one  bearing  the  signature  of  Rashton  Moody. 
No  little  excitement  was  created  on  reading  this ;  for  all 
knew  Moody  well,  and  also  the  cause  of  quarrel  between 
lim  and  Clarendon.  Kate  and  Ichabod  were  called  and 
examined  separately  ;  but  as  their  testimony  only  corrobo- 
•ated  Stanley's,  the  matter  was  soon  decided,  and  the  ver- 
iict  rendered — That  George  Clarendon  came  to  his  death 
3y  means  of  a  knife,  or  some  other  sharp  instrument  in  the 
lands  of  Rashton  Moody,  whom  the  jury  in  consequence 
considers  guilty  of  murder  in  the  first  degree. 

The  funeral  of  Clarendon  took  place  on  the  following 
lay,  and  was  attended  by  a  large  concourse  of  citizens,  of 
!(>th  sexes,  all  of  whom  appeared  to  sympathize  deeply 
(Yiih  tiie  ainicted  faui'Iv.     The  funeral  service  was  uncom- 


THE   BURIAL.  85 


monly  solemn  and  impressive ;  and  when  the  speaker  con- 
cluded, scarcely  a  dry  eye  could  he  found  in  the  whole 
assemblage.  A  long  procession  attended  the  corpse  to 
its  last  earthly  resting-place,  which  was  the  quiet  little 
graveyard  covering  the  knoll,  where  stood  the  sanctuary, 
of  which  mention  was  made  in  the  opening  chap<-er  of  this 
history. 

As  the  soft  earth  fell  with  a  hollow,  rattling  sound  upon 
the  coffin,  assuring  the  living  that  the  last  parting  between 
them  and  the  dead  had  really  taken  place,  not  a  dry  eye 
could  be  found  among  the  group  that  now  stood  around 
the  open  grave.  As  for  Kate  and  her  mother,  their  sobs 
and  lamentations  were  truly  heart-rending  ;  and  it  almost 
required  force  to  remove  them  from  the  "  narrow  house 
appointed  for  all  living.*' 

Egbert  Stanley,  from  one  cause  or  another,  had  not  yet 
taken  his  departure;  and  a  stranger,  to  have  seen  him  at 
the  funeral,  and  at  the  grave  of  Clarendon,  would  have 
pronounced  him  one  of  the  chief  mourners — so  pale  were 
his  features,  and  so  sad  in  expression.  As  Kate  and  her 
mother  quitted  the  grave,  he  held  their  horses,  assisted 
them  to  mount,  and  then,  with  Ichabod,  kept  them  com- 
pany on  foot,  as  they  slowly  took  th-^ir  way  to  their  now 
desolate  home.  Here,  after  partaking  some  refreshment, 
he  said : 

"  Friends — for  I  claim  the  privilege  of  calling  you  by 
that  endearing  term — our  first  meeting  and  acquaintance 
has  been  made  under  strange  and  heart-rending  circum- 
stances— such  as  I  trust  it  may  never  be  our  lot  to  witness 
again.  To  say  that  I  deeply,  from  my  heart,  sympathize 
with  you  in  your  affliction,  would  be  to  repeat  in  words 
what  my  actions  have  already  spoken.  Duty  now  calls  me 
away ;  and  I  fear  I  have  intruded  too  long  already ;  for 
-whatever   might  have  been  my  feelings,  I  should  have 

8 


86  KATE   CLARENDON. 

remembered  that  I  was  a  stranger,  and  therefore  had  no 
right  to  press  my  sympathies  upon  your  notice.  And  if 
in  doing  so  I  have,  in  your  view  of  the  matter,  overstepped 
the  bounds  of  propriety,  I  trust  you  will  fully  acquit  me, 
on  the  ground  that  all  was  meant  for  the  best." 

*'  I  am  sorry  you  think  it  necessary  to  make  apologies, 
Mr.  Stanley,"  answered  Mrs.  Clarendon,  while  Kate  looked 
up  at  the  young  officer  with  tearful  eyes;  *'for  I  assure 
you,  we  feel  deeply  our  obligations  to  you,  for  the  kind- 
ness manifested  in  this  awful,  soul-rending  calamity,  and 
sincerely  regret  that  the  time  has  come  for  you  to  leave  us. 
It  is  true,  we  have  known  you  only  a  short  period ;  but 
there  are  times  when  the  friendship  of  an  hour  bears  with 
it  the  weight  of  a  lifetime ;  and  such,  I  assure  you,  is 
yours.  That  you  are  a  stranger,  comparatively  speaking, 
I  know;  and  yet,  somehow,  it  seems  as  if  I  had  known  you 
for  years;  and  I  hope,  sincerely,  that  though  duty  now 
calls  you  away,  you  will  not  altogether  neglect  the  house 
of  the  widow  and  orphan." 

"  I  shall  be  too  happy  in  the  privilege  of  calling  upon 
you  whenever  circumstances  will  permit,"  answered  Eg- 
bert, glancing  toward  Kate,  whose  eyes  modestly  sought 
the  ground. 

"  Anything  that  a  poor  bod}^  like  me  can  do  to  sarve  ye, 
Mr.  Stanley,  rejoined  Ichabod,  "shall  ever  be  done 
straightway,  if  you'll  only  mention  it." 

"Thank  you,"  returned  Stanley.  "And  now.  Miss 
Kate,"  he  continued,  advancing  and  taking  her  hand, 
which,  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  the  contrary,  trembled  not 
a  little,  "  I  must  say  farewell — may  I  hope  it  is  not  for- 


ever 


^?' 


"  Certainly  not  forever,"  said  Kate,  looking  up  with  a 
start;  and  then,  as  she  saw  the  dark  eyes  of  the  other 
beaming  tenderly  upon  her,  she  became  embarrassed,- and 


THE    BURIAL.  87 


stammered :  "  That  is,  I — I — trust  you  will  call  again  to 
Bee  us — for — for — friendship  sake,  Mr.  Stanley.'* 

"I  shall  call  again,"  returned  Stanley,  pointedly;  and 
shaking  the  hand  of  each,  he  quitted  the  cottage,  and  set 
out  upon  his  return  to  the  garrison. 


CHAPTER    VIIL 

THE  DREAM  AND  THE  NECROMANCER. 

Pale  care  now  sits  enthroned  upon  that  cheek, 

Where  rosy  health  did  erst  her  empire  hold.— J.  T.  Watsin. 

Sickness  sits  cavern'd  in  her  hollow  eye. — Byron. 

Strange  is  the  power  of  dreams  ! — Mrs.  Norton. 

A  prophecy  he  spake,  yet  so  mysterious, 
None  knew  in  full  its  dire  import. — Old  Play. 

It  is  one  of  the  blessings  of  Divine  Providence,  that  the 
mind  can  be  healed  as  well  as  the  body — otherwise  what 
wretched  creatures  should  we  be  indeed  ! — for  who,  amonf' 
the  most  heaven  favored  of  us  all,  hath  not  lost  a  friend — 
a  near  and  dear  relative — and  felt  his  soul  oppressed  bj  a 
weight  of  woe,  that  then  seemed  destined  never  to  be  re- 
moved ;  but  which  time  has  gradually  lightened,  until  the 
heart  has  leaped  as  free  and  joyous  as  in  the  noon-tide  of 
its  prosperity.  It  is  hard  to  part  from  those  we  love — 
even  when  we  expect  to  behold  them  again  in  life — for  the 
separation  leaves  an  aching  void,  that  nothing  for  the  time 
can  fill — and  of  course  it  must  be  proportionately  hard  to 
part  from  those  we  love,  knowing  that  we  shall  behold 
them  no  more,  until  we  ourselves  shall  have  put  ofi'  the 
mortal  and  put  on  immortality.  But,  notw^ithstanding 
this,  w^e  should  ever  strive  to  avoid  being  too  much  cast 
down;  should  buoy  ourselves  up  with  the  reflection,  that 
all  are  born  to  die;  and  that  they  who  have  passed  the 
fatal  barrier,  have  already  done  with  a  world  of  trouble, 
and  entered  upon  a  new,  and,  we  trust,  more  happy  ex- 
(88) 


THE   DREAM    AXD    THE    XECRO:iIANCER.  89 

istence — where  Ave,  when  we  have  pLiyed  our  parts  on  the 
stage  of  life,  shall  join  them,  to  separate  no  more  forever. 
Let  us  philosophize,  that  death  is  but  a  sleep,  and  eternity 
a  delightful  dream  ;  and  that  the  sooner  our  spirits  leave 
this  troublesome  tenement,  fitly  prepared  for  the  change, 
the  sooner  we  shall  be  in  Heaven. 

Some  minds  are  so  constituted,  that  the  least  trouble 
seems  sufficient  to  overthrow  them,  and  great  troubles  drive 
them  nearly  distracted  ;  and  vet  after  a  little,  thev  sradu- 
ally  become  tranquil,  sorrow  passes  away,  and  they  appear 
as  gay  and  light-hearted  as  before :  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  find  others,  who  appear  calm  amid  the  lesser  ills, 
and  amid  the  greater  make  little  or  no  complaint,  and  yet 
are  secretly  borne  down  to  the  grave  by  the  afflictions  they 
scarce  seem  to  lament.  Something  of  both  these  natures 
could  be  found  in  Kate  and  her  mother.  As  time  wore  on, 
the  former  gradually  became  more  and  more  herself;  while 
the  latter  appeared  to  pine  away  in  secret,  as  though  some 
inward  disease  were  preying  upon  her  vitals.  From  the 
moment  ahe  received  the  news  of  her  husband's  death,  Mrs, 
Clarendon  was  never  known  to  smile ;  and  thoucrh  at  first 
she  made  great  lamentation  over  him,  yet  this  soon  settled 
into  a  quiet,  silent  melancholy,  that  foreboded,  ere  long, 
either  death  or  insanity. 

Three  months  rolled  away,  and  the  mother  of  Kate  was 
found  to  be  in  a  decline  of  health.  A  cold  that  she  had 
caught  some  two  months  before,  had  settled  on  her  lungs, 
which,  together  with  grief  for  the  loss  of  her  husband,  was 
now  making  those  rapid  strides  with  her  constitution,  that 
always  awaken  fears  of  the  most  painful  nature.  She 
coughed  a  good  deal — her  voice  became  changed — more 
hoarse  and  hollow — and  there  was,  at  times,  a  wax-like 
transparency  about  her  skin,  and  a  hectic  flush  on  her 

8* 


90  KATE    CLARENDON. 

cheek,  that  told,  with  unmistakeable  certainty,  of  the  silent 
work  of  death  going  on  within. 

Kate  noticed  the  progress  of  the  fell  destroyer  with  less 
alarm  than  might  have  been  supposed.  Doubtless  she  did 
not  realize  how  much  had  already  been  done,  and  looked 
forward  to  years  of  companionship  with  her  mother.  But 
not  so  Mrs.  Clarendon  herself.  Unlike  many  who  have 
that  flattering  disease,  consumption,  fastened  upon  them, 
she  saw  and  felt  her  danger ;  and,  like  the  wise  ones  of  old, 
deemed  it  expedient  to  have  her  lamps  trimmed  and  burn- 
ing, ready  for  the  coming  of  the  bridegroom.  Accordingly, 
one  bright  summer's  day,  toward  the  latter  part  of  August, 
she  bade  Kate  seat  herself  by  her  side,  that  they  might 
converse  on  a  subject  of  no  little  moment  to  both. 

"It  has  now,"  observed  Mrs.  Clarendon,  laying  her  thin, 
transparent  hand  on  the  white  and  plump  one  of  Kate, 
thereby  displaying  a  painful  contrast  between  sickness  and 
health:  "It  has  now,  daughter,  been  three  months,  since 
chat  terrible  night  when  your  father  was  brought  home  a 
corpse,  and  your  acquaintance  began  with  Egbert  Stanley ; 
and  as  I  know  I  am  not  long  destined  to  remain  and  watch 
over  you,  I  wish  you  to  tell  me,  truly,  how  you  stand  af- 
fected toward  each  other  ?" 

"Ah!  mother,"  exclaimed  Kate,  turning  her  eyes  ten- 
derly and  earnestly  upon  the  other,  "  what  mean  you,  by 
using  such  gloomy  words  V" 

"  Look  here,"  replied  Mrs.  Clarendon,  touching  her  face 
with  her  finger ;  "  do  you  not  behold  here  the  effects  of 
inward  disease  and  certain  decay  ?" 

"  But  death  may  not  come  for  years,  yet,  mother,"  re- 
joined Kate,  anxiously. 

Mrs.  Clarendon  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"You  mistake,  daughter,"  she  said.  "Put  weeks  in 
place  of  years,  and  perhaps  you  will  have  hit  it.     No, 


THE  DREAM  AXD  THE  XECROMAXCER.      91 

Kate,  my  darling,  I  know,  by  an  inward  monitor — by  this 
dry,  hollow  cough — that  I  am  not  long  for  this  world;  and 
I  am  anxious  to  know  what  will  become  of  you,  when  you 
find  yourself  alone,  with  no  father  nor  mother  to  turn  to 
for  protection  and  advice." 

"Mother,  dear  mother,  don't  talk  so!"  cried-  Kate, 
bursting  into  tears,  and  burying  her  head  upon  the  lap  of 
her  parent.  "  Oh  !  mother,  you  will,  you  must,  live  years 
yet.     I  cannot,  cannot  part  with  you  so  soon." 

"For  your  sake,  child,  I  would  to  God  I  could  ! — but  He 
who  sees  the  sparrow  fall,  has  ordered  otherwise." 

"  Oh  !  do  not  talk  so,  mother  !  You  are  ill  now,  I  know 
— but  you  may  yet  be  well  again." 

"  Child,"  continued  Mrs.  Clarendon,  bending  over  her 
daughter  affectionately,  her  now  somewhat  sunken  eyes 
moist  with  tears  :  "  Child,  do  not  delude  yourself  with  any 
false  hope.  The  grass  that  comes  upward  beneath  the 
fairy-like  tread  of  the  foot  of  Spring,  may  rise,  perchance, 
from  the  soil  resting  on  the  body  of  your  mother ;  and  that, 
too,  ere  another  year  has  joined  the  great  unapproachable 
Past.  But  tell  me  when  last  you  saw  Egbert  Stanley,  and 
how  matters  stand  between  you  ?  I  ask  with  no  idle  curi- 
osity ;  I  ask  only  as  a  mother ;  so  tell  me  truly." 

"It  is  a  week,  dearest  mother,  since  we  last  met,"  an- 
swered Kate,  looking  up  through  her  tears,  a  slight  flush 
giving  her  comely  features  a  beautiful  glow ;  "  but  as  to  the 
matters  you  allude  to,  I  scarcely  know  how  to  answer." 

"Has  he  ever  offered  you  his  hand  ?" 

"  Not  exactly,"  answered  Kate,  hesitatingly  ;  "  though 
perhaps  he  would  have  done  so,  had  I  always  remained  si- 
lent at  the  proper  time." 

"  And  why  did  you  not,  my  daughter  ?  Do  you  not  love 
him?" 

"I  hardly  know  what  love  is,"  answered  Kate,  dropping 


92  KATE    CLABENDON-. 


her  eyes  to  the  ground  ;  "  but  I  certainly  admire  him  more 
than  any  other  I  have  ever  seen." 

"  Do  you  admire  him  sufficiently  to  desire  him  for  a  life- 
companion  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Clarendon. 

"I  think  I  could  be  happy  with  him,  mother." 

"  Then,  daughter,  understand  me  !  From  Avhat  I  have 
seen,  I  think  him  a  brave,  noble,  and  generous  young  man, 
and  worthy  of  you;  and  it  is  my  desire  to  see  you  united 
before  I  die." 

"Ah!  mother,  you  are  talking  of  death  again,"  said 
Kate,  her  tears  starting  afresh. 

"  We  know  not,  daughter,  when  we  may  be  called  away ; 
and  should  my  death  be  sudden,  it  would  be  a  bitter  pang 
to  know  I  was  leaving  you  behind  without  a  protector,  in 
this  cold,  calculating  world.  But  of  course  I  leave  the 
matter  with  yourself,  to  do  as  you  think  proper.  Marriage 
is  a  solemn  undertaking,  and  should  not  be  lightly  entered 
into.  Unless  you  can  place  your  full,  undivided  affections 
upon  one  individual,  do  not  marry  at  all ;  for  there  are,  ne- 
cessaiily,  trials  in  married  life,  that  none  but  such  as  truly 
love  can  surmount  with  any  thing  like  harmony  of  feeling. 
I  say  nothing  would  delight  me  more  than  to  see  you  hap- 
pily wedded ;  yet,  understand,  I  do  not  wish  to  influence 
you  against  your  desire,  and  your  own  sober  reason ;  for, 
as  I  said  before,  marriage  is  a  most  solemn  undertaking. 
And  now  that  we  are  on  the  subject,  pray  tell  me  how  it 
stands  with  your  former  suitors?" 

"Why,  Danvers  and  Danbury,  I  believe,  have  suited 
themselves  elsewhere  ;  and  as  for  that  villain.  Moody " 

"Name  him  not,  Kate — name  him  not !"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Clarendon,  covering  her  eyes,  and  shuddering  at  the  images 
of  horror  which  his  name  called  up.  "May  he  meet  his 
deserts,  is  all  I  ask.  Yet  one  question:  Has  he  been 
found'''" 


THE    DrtEA:M    AXD    THE    NECROMAXCER.  93 

*' He  has  not;  although  Governor  St.  Chiir  has  offered 
the  reward  of  a  hundred  dollars  for  his  apprehension.  It 
is  supposed,  by  some,  that  he  has  joined  the  Indians." 

"  Then  we  may  fear  the  worst,"  rejoined  the  mother  of 
our  heroine,  sadly. 

"  Why  so,  mother  ?" 

"  Have  you  forgotten  the  awful  threat  contained  on  that 
paper,  Kate — '  Wo  to  them  that  bear  the  name  of  the 
dead  f  "" 

"  Oh,  that  might  have  been  done  to  intimidate  us,  you 
know,  mother.  Do  not  let  it  trouble  j^ou.  I  feel  not  the 
least  apprehension ;  for  Mr.  Stanley  assured  me,  that  scouts 
were  continually  out  in  all  directions;  so  that  at  present  it 
"would  be  impossible  for  a  body  of  Indians  to  reach  either 
this  place  or  Cincinnati,  before  alarm  of  their  approach 
would  be  given." 

*'  Yet  do  not  rely  too  much  upon  your  safety,  Kate,"  pur- 
sued Mrs.  Clarendon  ;  "  for  I  have  been  informed,  that  the 
force  at  Fort  Washin(]:;ton  is  not  laro^e,  so  that  from  there 
not  many  soldiers  could  be  spared  for  scouting  purposes. 
Now  I  think  of  it  seriously,  perhaps  we  had  better  give  up 
our  premises  here,  and  take  up  our  quarters  nearer  some 
block-house  1" 

"  But  why  so,  mother  ?  Has  anything  new  and  start- 
ling transpired  to  alarm  you  ?" 

"  Why,  I  had  a  very  singular  dream  last  night;  which, 
I  confess,  troubles  me  not  a  little  on  your  account.  I 
thought  I  was  standing  in  a  beautiful  arbor,  surrounded  by 
flowers  of  all  colors  and  varieties — from  the  modest  pink 
and  violet,  to  the  large  and  luxuriant  rose — and  that  you 
and  many  others  were  seated  around,  arrayed  in  white.  I 
thought  it  was  some  solemn  occasion  of  rejoicing — some- 
thing like  a  wedding,  and  yet  not  a  wedding  either.  In 
the  centre  of  the  group  stood  an  old,  grey-headed  man, 


94  KATE    CLARENDON. 


that  methought  was  our  pastor;  and  jet,  the  resemblance 
to  him  was  not  perfect,  but  confused.  Methought  he 
raised  his  trembling  hands  above  his  venerable  head,  to 
pronounce  a  benediction,  when  suddenly,  and  while  every 
eye  was  upon  him,  a  dark  cloud  enveloped  us,  and  forth- 
with resounded  shrieks  and  groans,  the  most  awful  I  ever 
heard.  Suddenly  I  felt  myself  growing  dizzy — indistinct 
objects  whirled  past  me — and  I  felt  myself  to  be  falling — 
down — down — down — into  a  horrible  lake  of  blood — when 
your  father,  pale  as  marble,  sprung  forward,  clasped  me  in 
his  arms,  and,  hurrying  me  away  to  some  quiet  spot,  whis- 
pered in  my  ear,  'We  have  met  to  part  no  more.'  With  a 
cry  of  joy,  tinged  with  the  horror  of  the  scene  I  had  just 
witnessed,  I  awoke,  and  found  myself  lying  on  the  floor. 
What  augur  you  from  the  dream,  my  daughter?" 

"  Why,  I  do  not  think  it  best  to  give  ourselves,  any  un- 
easiness about  it ;  people  often  dream  as  strangely,  with- 
out any  serious  results." 

"But  somehow,"  pursued  Mrs.  Clarendon,  "  I  cannot 
shake  off  the  impression,  that  this  portends  evil  to  some- 
body— perhaps  myself." 

"  God  forbid  !"  exclaimed  Kate,  fervently,  throwing  her 
arms  around  her  mother's  neek,  and  pressing  a  kiss  upon 
her  fading  lips.  *'  God  forbid  that  anything  should  hap- 
pen to  you,  dearest  mother !  But  let  us  hope  our  afflic- 
tions are  over — at  least  for  the  pres-ent." 

"  It  is  always  proper  to  hope,  child ;  and  God,  in  his 
goodness,  has  so  ordained  it,  that  there  are  but  few  situa- 
tions, in  all  the  changes  of  human  life,  where  hope  becomes 
extinct.  By  the  way,  have  you  seen  anything  of  Luther 
of  late?" 

"No,  I  have  not  seen  him  since  the  night  of  father's 
death ;  though  I  have  heard  of  his  being  in  tlie  vicinity. 
He  passed  through  the  village  a  few  days  since,  and  I  be- 


THE    DPwEA.M:    A2s'D    THE   XECROM.-LN'CER.  95 

lieve  uttered  some  of  his  prophesies  ;  one  of  which  was  to 
the  effect,  that  Columbia  would  never  be  a  ci[v:  and  an- 
other, that  treasures  had  been  concealed  on  the  banks  of 
the  Little  Miami.  Some  have  put  faith  in  his  words,  and 
been  and  dug  for  gold  ;  but  I  believe  nothing  unusual  has 
been  the  result.'"" 

'•Strange  being  he!"  observed  Mrs.  Clarendon,  mus- 
ingly. *•  Can  it  be  possible  that  he  is  gifted  with  what  is 
called  second  sight  ?" 

'•1  know  not,  mother,  what  are  his  gifts  in  that  respect; 
but  I  do  know,  that  he  foretold  some  things  which  have 
come  true  ;  and  that  over  me  exercised  a  strange  kind  of 
power,  beyond  my  comprehension.  Xever  did  I  put  faith 
in  him  till  then.  But.  Heaven  preserve  him  I  for  he  saved 
my  life  from  a  villain."- 

''  And  will  again,"  said  a  deep  voice. 

Kate  and  her  mother  turned  quickly  round,  and,  to  their 
astonishment,  beheld  the  tall,  rough  form  of  Luther,  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway,  calmly  leaning  upon  his  long  stick  of 
witch-hazel. 

"Art  thou  mortal?"'  asked  Mrs.  Clarendon,  vainly 
endeavoring  to  shake  off  a  superstitious  feeling  that  came 
creeping  over  her,  with  a  chilly  sensation.  "Art  thou 
mortal,  Luther  V 

"  I  am  what  I  am."  replied  the  Xecromancer,  solemnly. 
'•  This  much  know:  I  was  born  of  woman,  and  am  bound 
to  die.  God  save  all  here  I  for  already  the  second  trump 
of  woe  is  beins  blown — the  second  vial  of  wrath  bein^^ 
emptied.     Maiden,  listen  I 

To  him  who  holds  thv  heart  in  bond 
Preelv  may'st  thoa  now  respond  : 
Yet  guard  thv  every  word  and  sigh. 
For  tristful  hour  with  thee  is  nigh." 

"He  whom  you  love  will  soon  be  with  vou." 


96  KATE    CLARENDON. 

"Whom  I  love,"  repeated  Kate,  a  deep  flush  mantling 
her  face  and  neck.     ''  And  whom  do  I  love  ?" 

''  Whom  the  fates  decreed  you  should — Eo;bert  Stan- 
ley." 

"Nay,  I  know  not  that  I  love  him,"  responded  Kate, 
turning  away  her  head. 

"  Tell  that  to  the  winds — peradventure  they  will  believe 
you  ;  but  think  not  to  deceive  me,  nor  thyself,  fair  maiden. 
Thou  knowest,  Kate  Clarendon,  that  Egbert  Stanley  holds 
thy  heart — else  why  that  averted  head  and  tell-tale  blood. 
And,  maiden,  fear  not  that  he  is  unworthy  thee.  The 
diamond,  fresh  raised  from  the  bedded  mine,  is  not  more 
pure  than  the  blood  leaping  with  the  impetuosity  of  youth 
throua:h  his  veins.  Sometime  I  will  tell  thee  more. 
Adieu  !  and  remember — tristful  time  is  near." 

"  Stay,  Luther,  and  partake  of  some  refreshment," 
said  Mrs.  Clarendon,  as  the  Necromancer  turned  to  de- 
part. 

"  Would  to  God,"  returned  Luther,  solemnly,  "  I  could 
bid  thee  stay  !  But  I  go  now,  and  you  go  soon  ;  and  yet 
you  will  not  follow  me,  for  we  journey  different  wa3^s. 
Your  path  lies  there  ;"  and  Luther  pointed  upw^ard.  "  You 
ask  me  to  take  refreshment.  This  is  kind  of  you,  and  I 
thank  you;  but  I  have  it  here;"  and  he  pointed  over  his 
shoulder  with  his  thumb,  to  the  knapsack  on  his  back. 
*'  Thank  God  !  it  costs  little  to  keep  me  ;  for  I  live  plain, 
as  becometh  one  of  my  calling.  Jerk,  roots  and  berries 
are  my  food ;  and  my  drink,  the  silver  waters  spouting 
from  the  cool,  forest-shaded  earth.  And  now,  adieu ! 
Pray  often,  and  fast  often — for  if  the  stars  do  not  lie,  you 
will  both  soon  feel  the  need  of  Divine  aid." 

As  Luther  said  this,  he  turned  and  disappeared.  The 
eyes  of  Kate  and  her  mother  met,  with  expressions  of 
superstitious  bewilderment. 


THE   DREAM    AND    THE    NECROMANCER.  97 

"  It  can  do  us  no  harm  to  pray,  at  all  events,"  said  Mrs. 
Clarendon  ;  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  she  knelt 
upon  the  ground — Kate  knelt  beside  her — and  the  heai-ts 
of  both  were  poured  out  in  supplications  to  the  God  of 
that  Tribunal  before  which  all  nations  must  be  judged. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   LOVERS. 

Her  time  is  nearly  come — yet  iQouru  thtm  not 
No !  rather  bear  in  mind  tliat  all  must  die, 
And  that  the  hastening  of  the  spirit  hence, 
But  hastens  joys  eternal. — Anon. 

0,  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life, 
As  love's  young  dream. — Moore. 

He  told  his  tale  of  love  unto  a  shy 
But  willing  ear. — *•:-** 

With  thee  conversing  I  forget  all  time. — Milton. 

It  was  a  bewitching  night.  The  moon  rode  high  in  the 
heavens,  and  poured  her  soft,  silvery  flood  over  the  luxu- 
riant and  apparently  sleeping  earth.  No  breeze  rustled  a 
leaflet — no  sounds  Tv^ere  heard,  save  those  soft,  dreamy 
ones  which  are  made  by  the  night-watchers.  Not  a  cloud 
marred  the  broad,  blue  canopy  overhead,  through  whicti 
could  here  and  there  be  seen  the  rich,  golden  light,  shot 
from  some  bright  star,  itself  away  in  the  incomprehensible 
and  boundless  realms  of  space.  The  mighty  forest  seemed 
sleeping,  and  one  could  almost  fancy  nodding,  too,  in  its 
sleep.  It  was  a  night  for  love.  Just  sufficiently  calm  and 
holv  to  awaken  all  those  fine  poetic  chords  of  nature, 
whose  gentle,  musical  tones  are  drowned  and  lost  amid  the 
harsher  sounds  of  every  day,  active  life.  A  night  for 
communing  with  some  bright  being,  who  has  gone  from  this 
vale  of  tears  to  a  happier  and  holier  sphere — or  with  one 
who  still  lingers  here,  pluming  her  wings  for  an  immortal 
and  eternal  flight.     A  night,  indeed,  for  lovers  and  love. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Little  Miami,  stood  an  old  syca- 


TnE    LOTEES.  99 


more,  whose  white  and  aged  arms,  thrown  abroad  over  the 
murmuring  stream,  seemed  no  bad  type  of  a  prophet  about 
to  utter  oracles  for  coming  ages  to  define,  or  pronounce  a 
benediction  over  the  gurgling  waters  that  rolled  beneath. 

In  keeping  with  the  hour  and  the  scene,  there  glided  be- 
neath this  old  sycamore,  in  the  checkered  light  which  the 
moon  made  by  stealing  among  the  leaflets,  two  figures — a 
youth  and  a  maiden.  At  the  base  of  the  old  tree  they 
paused,  and  seated  themselves  on  a  crooked  trunk  of  a 
smaller  one,  which,  projecting  over  the  waters,  shot  up- 
ward, a  growing  rival  to  its  patriarchal  neighbor.  They 
seated  themselves  upon  the  trunk  of  this  tree  in  silence, 
and  looked  downward  for  a  few  moments,  and  listened  to 
the  song  of  the  streamlet,  as  it  mingled  harmoniously  with 
the  quiet  hum  of  forest  life.  Beautiful  and  sacred  thoughts 
were  in  the  breasts  of  both ;  for  they  thought  of  each  other 
and  of  love ;  and  who  will  deny  that  true  love  is  a  sacred 
theme,  and  has  more  of  Heaven  in  it  than  earth! 

*'  This,"  said  the  young  man,  in  a  low,  musical  voice, 
that  accorded  well  with  everything  around :  "  This  is  a 
night,  and  a  scene  that  I  love." 

"And  I,"  was  the  response  of  the  gentle  maiden  by  his 
side,  in  a  tone  that  lost  itself  in  harmony  with  the  mur- 
muring river  at  her  feet.  "What,"  she  continued,  "is 
more  enchanting  than  nature,  when  displayed  in  her  mild- 
est and  loveliest  form,  to  the  soul  that  views  it  in  a  corres- 
ponding mood  of  quietude  ?" 

"Ay!  and  to  behold  its  beauties,"  answered  her  com- 
panion, "the  soul  must  be  in  harmony  with  it;  and  what 
will  so  soon  harmonize  the  soul  to  a  scene  like  this,  as 
love?" 

The  maiden  drooped  her  head,  and  tapped  the  earth 
lightly  with  her  delicate  little  foot,  but  did  not  answer.  A 
moment  the  young  man  paused,  and  then  gently  stealing 


lOQ  IvATE    CLARENDOX 


the  hand  of  the  maiden,  and  pressing  it  in  his  own,  he 
•went  on. 

"  What  feeling  is  there,  dear  Kate,  more  subdued  and 
holy  than  the  yearning  of  a  soul  toward  a  kindred  spirit? 
and  the  intoxicating  response — the  harmonious  blending 
together  of  both  ?  Harmony  is  the  main  spring  of  crea- 
tion, on  which  depends  alike  the  existence  of  a  world,  and 
the  happiness  of  a  human  being.  He  whose  soul  is  not  in 
unison  with  nature  and  the  things  around  him,  must  of 
necessity  be  unhappy.  I  did  not  come  hither,  however,  to 
philosophize,  but  to  speak  of  matters  which  lie  nearer  my 
heart.  Months,  dearest  Kate,  have  intervened,  since  that 
never-to-be-forgotten  night,  when  we  met  for  the  first  time, 
under  circumstances  the  most  painful  to  both;  and  often 
since  then  have  we  been  together,  walked  together,  and 
conversed  together  on  various  subjects — may  I  inquire  if 
these  meetings  have  in  any  wise  been  disagreeable  to  you  ?" 

"  On  the  contrary,"  answered  Kate,  "  I  will  be  frank  to 
own,  they  have  proved  the  happiest  periods  of  my  life." 

*' On  this  point,  then,  our  feelings  harmonize;  for  the 
only  real  pleasure  I  have  myself  enjoyed,  has  been  in  your 
sweet  company.  But  to  change  the  subject,  somewhat — 
let  me  inquire  regarding  your  mother?" 

"  She  does  not  seem  so  well  to-night,"  answered  Kate, 
sadly. 

"  So  I  fancied,  fronl  what  I  saw,"  rejoined  Stanley. 
"Have  you  thought  seriously  upon  her  illness,  Kate  ?" 

*'I  do  not  know  as  I  understand  you." 

*'  I  do  not  wish  to  alarm  you,  Kate,  but  only  to  prepare 
your  mind  for  a  grave  subject.  Perhaps  you  are  ignorant 
of  her  complaint?" 

"  Ha  1  then  you  think  it  dangerous;  Egbert  ?"  exclaimed 
the  fair  girl,  grasping  his  arm,  with  a  nervous  motion,  and 


THE    LOVERS.  101 


endeavoring  to  catch  the  expression  of  his  features  in  the 
darkness. 

^'  You  must  prepare  yourself  to  part  with  her  ere  long,'* 
said  Egbert,  solemnlj. 

"  Oh,  Heaven  !  you  alarm  me,  Egbert ! — and  yet  you 
but  repeat  ^Yhat  she  told  me  herself  to-day.  Oh,  God  !  if 
she  be  taken  from  me,  I  shall  be  alone,  indeed,  without  a 
protector,  perhaps  a  friend!" 

"Nay,  Kate,  dearest,"  rejoined  Stanley,  encircling  her 
waist  with  his  arm ;  "  it  is  of  that  I  wish  to  speak.  There 
are  none,  I  know,  that  can  supply  the  place  of  a  mother; 
and  could  my  earnest  prayers  avail  aught,  you  should  never 
feel  the  want  of  one;  but  it  would  be  little  less  than  crimi- 
nal, methinks,  to  disguise  from  you  the  fact,  that,  as  re- 
gards your  mother,  the  fatal  work  of  death  has  already 
begun." 

"  Great  Heaven  I"  cried  Kate,  wildly,  placing  her  hands 
to  her  temples;  "you  do  not  mean  this!  Oh  !  say  you  are 
jesting ! — say  you  did  it  to  frighten  me  !  say  anything! — 
but,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  do  not  tell  me  my  dear,  dear  mo- 
ther is  dying !" 

"In  this  world,"  replied  the  young  officer,  in  a  tone 
slightly  tremulous,  "  we  must  look  for  nothing  but  crosses, 
disappointments,  and  partings  from  those  we  love.  That 
your  mother  is,  dying,  in  the  literal  sense  of  the  term,  I 
would  not  imply;  she  may  hold  out  for  weeks,  and  even 
months  ;  but,  painful  as  is  the  task,  I  cannot  conscientiously 
conceal  from  you  the  truth,  that  she  is  in  deep  consump- 
tion, and  that  there  is  no  hope  of  seeing  her  restored  to 
health." 

Kate  bowed  her  head  upon  her  nands,  sobbed  aloud,  and 
groaned  like  one  in  pain. 

"  Yet,  dearest  girl,  take  it  not  so  hard  !  Remember,  we 
are  in  a  world  where  death  is  ever  parting  friends ;  and 

9* 


102  KATE   CLARENDOI^". 


that,  sooner  or  later,  we  must  all  separate,  according  to 
the  will  of  Him  who  shapes  our  destinies.  You  said,  but 
now,  that  if  your  mother  were  called  away,  you  would  be 
without  a  protector,  perchance  a  friend.  It  grieved  me, 
dear  girl,  to  hear  you  say  thus.  No,  Kate  Clarendon, 
while  Egbert  Stanley  lives,  you  shall  never  want  a  friend; 
iind — and  (his  voice  trembled  and  sunk  to  a  whisper)— it 
rests  with  you  to  say,  whether  the  friend  and  protector 
shall  be  one." 

Kate  still  sat  with  her  head  bowed  down,  trembling  and 
silent;  and  pausing  for  a  moment,  Stanley  again  pro- 
ceeded, in  a  low,  earnest  voice. 

"  It  has  been  but  three  months,  since  accident  first  threw 
us  together,  dear  Kate ;  and  yet  to  me  our  acquaintance 
seems  that  of  years.  From  what  I  have  seen  of  you,  I 
am  perfectly  confident  you  hold  the  power  to  make  me 
happy  or  miserable :  in  other  words,  dearest  Kate,  I  must 
own  I  love  you,  and  did  from  the  moment  I  saw  displayed 
those  heroic  qualities  at  the  death  of  your  father." 

"Let  us  not  talk  of  this  now,"  said  Kate,  hurriedly. 

"And  why  not  now?"  rejoined  the  other,  with  some  un- 
easiness; "  there  may  never  be  a  better  time  and  place, 
and  we  know  not  what  may  happen." 

"But  somehow,"  sighed  Kate,  "I  feel  strangely — as  if 
danger  were  lurking  nigh." 

"I  see  how  it  is,"  returned  Stanley,  in  a  tone  of  sad- 
ness ;  "  you  do  not  love  me,  and  seek  to  avoid,  as  you  have 
done  on  all  previous  occasions,  any  mention  of  a  subject 
which  I  must  own  lies  nearest  my  heart.  Be  it  so,  then ; 
you  will  doubtless  find  another  more  worthy,  and  more  to 
your  liking." 

"Nay,"  said  Kate,  startled  at  the  turn  matters  had 
taken:  "Nay,  Egbert,  I  meant  not  that." 

"  And  now  I  think  of  it,  I  know  no  reason  why  you 


THE    LOYEKS.  103 


Bbould  love  me,"  continued  Stanley,  pursuing  his  own  train 
of  reflections.  "  I  am  only  a  poor  officer  in  the  army, 
Tvliose  duty  is  where  danger  lies,  and  know  not  at  what 
moment  I  may  be  called  away  to  another  station  or  another 
world.  'Tis  better,  now  I  think  seriously  on  the  sutject, 
that  you  do  not  love  me,  Kate ;  I  might  only  be  an  instru- 
ment in  the  hands  of  Providence,  for  making  your  sorrows 
heavier." 

Kate  turned  her  eyes  toward  her  companion  for  a  mo- 
ment— with  a  look,  which,  could  Egbert  have  seen,  his  heart 
would  have  smote  him — and  then  burst  into  tears. 

"  Ah  !  why  do  you  weep,  dear  Kate  ?"  asked  the  other, 
tenderly.     "  Have  I  mistaken  your  meaning  ?" 

Kate  answered  not ;  but  her  head  gradually  sunk  against 
his  breast,  and  her  tears  burst  forth  afresh.* 

"  Ah  !  Kate,"  cried  the  other,  rapturously,  throwing  both 
arms  around  and  straining  her  to  his  heart ;  "  what  a  fool 
have  I  been  to  mistake  you !  You  love  me,  Kate — you 
love  me  ?" 

Kate  replied  not,  save  by  pressing  closer  to  his  breast. 

"  And  you  will  be  mine,  dearest  ?" 

A  pressure  of  the  hand  was  the  only  answer. 

"Heaven  bless  you,  mine  own  dear  angel  !"  exclaimed 
Stanley,  stealing  his  first  kiss  from  the  trembling  lips  of 
the  lovely  being  reclining  in  his  arms. 

Two  hours  rolled  away,  and  still  the  lovers  were  seated 
beneath  that  same  old  sycamore,  and  lost  to  the  outer 
world  in  a  sweet  communion  with  each  other. 

"And  when  shall  it  be  ?"  asked  Stanley,  at  length,  in 
reference  to  something  which. had  gone  before. 

"That  I  shall  leave  to  you,"  replied  Kate. 

''  Then  the  sooner  the  better,"  rejoined  the  other.  "  Yet, 
Stay  !  I  have  forgotten  one  question  :    Your  mother,  Kate 


104  KATE   CLARENDON. 

l_  -■■■■  -I.---  »■■■—        ^1  ■■■    IMI^— — ^W^ 

— will  she  give  her  consent  ? — for  I  will  do  nothing  against 
her  "will." 

*'  It  is  already  given,"  replied  Kate.  "  It  is  her  own 
desire,  dear  Egbert,  to  see  us  united  before  she  dies." 

"  Ho.-iven  bless  her  I  when  said  she  this?" 

"  To-day.  She  called  me  to  her,  questioned  me  of  you, 
spoke  of  you  in  the  highest  terms  of  praise,  and  said,  if 
it  accorded  with  the  feelings  of  both,  nothing  would  please 
her  better  than  to  see  us  duly  united." 

"  I  shall  go  wild  with  joy.  A  week  from  to-night,  then, 
Kate,  will  that  suit  you  ?" 

"I  said  I  should  leave  it  to  you,"  returned  Kate,  avert- 
ing her  face. 

*'  Then  the  bond  is  settled,  and  so  let  us  seal  it,"  rejoined 
Stanley,  gaily ;  and  the  next  moment  the  lips  of  the  lovers 
met  in  a  long  and  rapturous  kiss  of  love. 

"There  is  one  thing  more,"  said  Egbert  again,  after  a 
pause  of  a  few  moments.  "  I  have  told  you  nothing  of 
my  history,  Kate.  Perhaps,  when  you  come  to  hear  that, 
you  will  change  your  mind  in  regard  to  this  matter  ?" 

"Then  keep  it  ever  a  secret,  Egbert,"  answered  Kate, 
frankly.  "  If  I  wed  you,  it  will  be  for  your  noble  self 
alone.  So  that  your  own  conduct  has  been  upright  through 
life,  I  care  for  nothing  more. 

"Noble,  generous  girl !"  cried  the  other,  in  a  transport 
of  joy;  "now  I  love  thee  more  than  ever,  for  thy  unwaver- 
ing confidence  in  me.  jMay  Heaven  watch  over  us  both, 
and  allow  me  to  strew  thy  path  with  flowers  even  to  the 
verge  of  the  grave  !" 

"Hist!"  said  Kate,  laying  her  hand  upon  the  arm  of 
her  companion.     "Did  you  not  hear  a  noise  ?" 

"  What  was  it  like  ?" 

"The  cracking  of  some  dry  twig  or  bush." 

"  Both  now  listened  attentively  for  some  moments  ;  but 


THE    LOADERS.  105 

all  was  silent,  save  the  rippling  of  the  stream,  the  chirping 
of  the  insects,  and  the  low  sighing  of  the  forest,  as  a  light 
breeze  swept  through  it. 

"  I  think  you  must  have  heen  mistaken,  clear  Kate,"  said 
Egbert,  *'  for  all  seems  still." 

"  Then  fancy  has  made  me  timid,"  returned  Kate,  press- 
ing closer  to  the  other  ;  "  and  so  I  think  we  had  better 
return.     Ha  !   what  was  that  ?" 

"  I  hear  nothing  but  the  hooting  of  an  owl." 

"  What  a  gloomy  sound  !  Strange  it  is,  dear  Egbert,  but 
I  feel  so  nervous — so  much  as  I  did  on  that  terrible  night 
when  father  died.  Oh,  merciful  Heaven  !  I  hope  I  am  not 
to  pass  such  a  night  again.  Come  !  Come  !  let  us  return, 
quick  as  possible !  for  I  cannot  divest  myself  of  the  idea 
that  we  are  surrounded  by  danger." 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing ;  you  are  needlessly  alarmed,  dear 
Kate,  I  am  sure,"  replied  Egbert,  consolingly.  '*But  we 
will  return,  at  all  events,  for  I  fear  it  is  getting  late." 

"Late!"  echoed  Kate,  as  they  commenced  retracing 
their  steps  to  the  cottage.  "  Why,  how  long  have  we  been 
away,  I  pray  you?" 

"  Guess." 

"Half  an  hour,  perhaps." 

"You  are  more  complimentary  than  correct,"  returned 
Stanley,  with  a  light  laugh,  as,  by  the  glimmer  of  the  moon 
through  the  trees,  he  was  enabled  to  make  the  time  from 
his  watch.  "  Add  two  hours  to  the  half,  and  you  will  hit  it 
exactly." 

Kate  was  about  to  utter  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and 
insist  that  her  lover  was  mistaken,  when  the  stirring  of  a 
bush  just  ahead  of  her,  caused  her  to  start  back  with  a  sup- 
pressed cry  of  fear.  Stanley  saw  the  bush  move  also  ;  and 
throwins:  his  left  arm  around  the  waist  of  his  fair  compa- 
nion,  'with  his  right  he  drew  his  sword,  and  put  himself  in 


106  KATE    CLARENDON. 

an  attitude  of  defence.  For  a  few  moments  he  stood, 
awaiting  the  appeai^ance  of  his  foe,  if  such  the  unknown 
should  prove ;  while  Kate  clung  to  him  with  a  maidenly 
fear,  that  made  his  arm  feel  strong,  and  raised  within  him 
a  desire  to  meet  danger  for  her  sake. 

"All  is  quiet  there  again,"  he  said,  at  length,  in  a  low 
tone.  "  Could  our  eyes  have  possibly  deceived  us  ?  I 
will  go  and  probe  the  bush  with  my  good  sword  and  ascer- 
tain." 

"No!  no!  no!"  rejoined  Kate,  clasping  him  more 
tiglitly ;  "you  shall  not  stir  a  step  toward  it,  Egbert !  Here 
—this  way — quick — let  us  hurry  back!"  and  taking  an 
opposite  direction  to  the  bush,  Kate  almost  dragged  her 
companion  after  her. 

For  a  few  paces,  Stanley  hung  back,  as  if  reluctant  to 
leave  the  mysterious  bush ;  then,  as  if  actuated  by  another 
thought,  he  suddenly  threw  an  arm  around  the  maiden's 
waist,  and,  partly  raising  her  from  the  ground,  hurried  her 
forward  at  a  fast  run,  and  in  a  few  minutes  reached  the 
cottage  in  safety.  Bidding  her  go  in  and  bolt  the  door, 
Egbert  was  about  to  turn  back,  when  Kate  prevented  him, 
by  declaring  that  if  he  did  she  would  follow.  After  much 
entreaty,  he  abandoned  the  idea,  and  accepted  her  invita- 
tion to  spend  the  night  under  her  mother's  roof. 

For  a  few  minutes  after  Egbert  and  Kate  had  departed, 
everything  remained  quiet ;  then  the  bush,  whose  movement 
had  so  startled  the  latter,  became  slightly  agitated  again  ; 
and  at  the  same  moment  a  head  was  thrust  through,  and 
turned  from  side  to  side,  as  if  to  ascertain  that  the  coast 
was  clear.  Then  a  figure  emerged  from  the  thicket,  and, 
as  it  came  into  the  broad  light  of  the  moon,  displayed  the 
tall,  but  slender  form  of  a  white  man,  metamorphosed  into 
an  Indian.  Portions  of  his  body  were  bare,  after  the 
Indian  fashion.     lie  wore  moccasins  on  his  feet,  had  paint 


THE    L0YEK3.  107 


on  his  face,  and  his  head  was  shaved,  all  but  a  single  tuft 
of  hair  on  the  crown,  which  was  ornamented  with  feathers. 
A  belt  around  his  waist  contained  a  brace  of  pistols,  a 
scalping-knife  and  tomahawk,  and  in  his  right  hand  he 
carried  a  rifle. 

"  'Tis  well  for  you,"  he  muttered,  in  English,  through 
his  close  shut  teeth,  shaking  his  fist  in  the  direction  whence 
he  saw  the  lovers  disappear:  "'Tis  well  for  you,  you  did 
not  probe  the  bush,  as  you  were  about  to  do,  young  man — 
or  you  might  have  found  a  few  inches  of  cold  steel  probing 
you.  A  week  from  to-night,  eh  !  is  to  consummate  your 
desire  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  am  glad  you  mentioned  it ;  for  now 
I  shall  be  there,  though  an  uninvited  guest ;  and  I  will  in- 
vite a  few  of  my  dusky  brethren  to  be  there  also.  Perad- 
venture  if  I  cannot  give  the  bride  away,  I  can  take  her  to 
myself.  Once  in  my  power — once  mine — (and  his  features 
assumed  a  hellish  look  of  satisfaction,  and  his  black  eyes 
fairly  shone  in  the  darkness) — and  if  yon  proud  youth  will 
accept  her  then — why — ha,  ha  !  let  him  have  her — a  ruined, 
cast  off  toy.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  will  Rashton  Moody 
think  his  insult  cancelled  by  a  sweet  revenge." 

As  he  said  this,  the  figure  turned,  plunged  into  the 
thicket,  and  disappeared — an  evil  spirit,  bent  on  a  devilish 
mission. 


CHxYPTER    X. 

THE   WEUDIXG    AND    THE   ATTACK. 

The  guests  were  ready.     In  sad  and  solemn 
Silence  waited  each  the  corning 
Of  the  bridegreom. — Old  Play. 

♦  His  pure  thoughts  were  borne 

Like  fumes  of  sacred  incense  o'er  the  clouds. — Conguevb. 

0,  treacherous  night! 
Thou  lend'st  thy  veil  to  every  treason, 
And  teeming  mischiefs  thrive  beneath  thy  shade. — Aaron  Hill. 

Death  and  destruction,  and  the  shrieks  of  woe, 
Were  seen  and  heard  on  every  hand. — The  Siege. 

Time,  with  his  scythe  and  hour-glass,  strode  steadily  on- 
ward, and  soon  brought  about  the  eventful  night,  which 
had  been  set  apart  for  the  consummation  of  the  rite  indis- 
soluble between  Egbert  Stanley  and  Kate  Clarendon. 
Throughout  the  week  intervening,  since  we  last  beheld  the 
lovers,  every  preparation  had  been  made  for  solemnizing 
the  nuptials  of  two  beings  whose  souls  beat  in  unison.  In- 
vitations had  been  sent  to  nearly  all  the  young  people  of 
Columbia ;  and  at  an  early  hour  on  the  evening  in  question, 
they  might  have  been  seen  in  pairs,  riding  gaily  up  to  the 
door  of  the  bride.  Ichabod  Longtree,  arrayed  in  his  best, 
busied  himself  in  welcoming  them  to  the  wedding  of  his  pet, 
and  taking  charge  of  their  horses,  which  he  led  around  the 
house  and  secured  to  the  trees  in  the  rear.  Kate  and  her 
mother  had  robed  themselves  in  garments  of  white,  being 
relics  of  those  days  when  they  were  rolling  in  luxury. 
What  gave  additional  joy  to  both,  the  health  and  spirits  of 
Mrs.  Clarendon,  since  the  announcement  to  her  that  Eg- 
(108) 


THE   WEDDIXG    AND    THE    ATTACK.  109 


bert  Stanley  was  soon  to  become  her  son-in-law,  had  re- 
vived to  a  wonderful  degree,  and  she  now  appeared  before 
her  guests  with  something  of  the  look  and  manner  of  for- 
mer days.  The  excitement  of  the  occasion  had  tinged  her 
cheek  with  a  flush  resembling  health,  and  added  additional 
lustre  to  her  eyes,  which  now  beamed  with  animation  and 

joy^ 

Kate,  as  might  be  supposed,  looked  paler — more  sad  and 
thoughtful — but,  at  the  same  time,  none  the  less  lovely. 
She  received  the  greetings  of  her  friends  with  an  air  of 
grace  and  cordiality ;  and  sometimes,  though  but  seldom, 
smiled,  at  their  frequent  sallies  of  wit.  To  her  it  seemed 
a  grave,  rather  than  light  occasion,  and  one  little  suited, 
on  her  part,  to  hilarity.  However  much  she  might  have 
jested  on  the  matter  once,  she  now  felt  in  all  its  force  the 
responsibility  of  the  step  she  was  about  to  take.  She  was 
about  to  give  her  hand,  for  good  or  ill,  to  one  she  loved, 
and  that  for  life.  She  was  about  to  bid  adieu  to  the  ro- 
mantic visions  of  girlhood,  and  enter  upon  the  responsible 
realities  of  a  wife  and  womanhood.  She  was,  in  short, 
about  to  give  herself  away,  to  become  another's,  to  be 
bound  to  him  by  solemn  ties,  that  could  not  be  broken  with- 
out offence  against  the  laws  of  God  and  man.  It  was  a 
great  and  grave  undertaking — a  new  epoch  in  her  life — 
and  though  she  wavered  not,  flinched  not,  yet  she  trembled 
and  felt  sad  at  the  thoufrht. 

Among  the  invited  guests,  came  two  of  the  former 
suitors  of  Kate — Danvers  and  Danbury — each  accompa- 
nied by  a  lass,  who  now  had  the  honor  of  holding  a  place 
in  his  heart,  which  was  once  partially  occupied  by  our  fair 
heroine.  They  met  her  frankly,  an^  cordially,  with  no 
show  of  pique  or  resentment,  and  as  friends  who  took  a 
deep  interest  in  her  welfare. 

"I  once  flattered  myself,"  said  Danvers  to  Kate,  smil- 

10 


110  KATE   CLARENDON. 

ing  pleasantly,  "  that  I  should  be  a  prominent  actor  at  the 
wedding  of  Kate  Clarendon,  instead  of  a  spectator ;  but 
matters  have  turned  out  otherwise." 

"  And  none  the  worse  for  you,"  returned  Kate,  inclin- 
ing her  head  to  the  maiden  who  now  held  the  arm  and 
heart  of  her  former  suitor. 

"  We  will  hope  all  has  been  for  the  best,"  was  the  reply 

of  Danvers,  looking  fondly  toward  her  whose  arm  he  held. 

"We  lost  the  race,  and  should  fain  be  content,"  put  in 

Danbury,  with  a  smile,  coming  up  at  the  moment,  with  a 

pretty  maiden  also  hanging  on  his  arm. 

"  And  in  losing  you  won,'"  returned  Kate  pointedly, 
punning  upon  the  word,  and  pointing  to  his  fair  com- 
panion. 

"  Why,  as  to  winning,"  rejoined  Danbury,  laughing, 
"  that  will  depend  much  upon  a  certain  monosyllable  from 
Emma  here." 

"Fie!  Orville,"  said  Emma,  blushing,  and  dragging 
him  away,  in  the  utmost  good  humor. 

An  hour  from  the  setting  in  of  night,  saw  all  the  guests 
assembled  at  the  cottage,  with  the  exception  of  the  groom 
and  clergyman,  who  were  momentarily  expected.  As  was 
customary  at  that  day,  each  of  the  young  men  had  brought 
with  him  his  rifle,  more  from  the  force  of  habit  and  pre- 
caution, than  from  any  supposed  use  he  would  have  for  it. 
It  was  also,  as  a  matter  of  form,  thought  advisable  to 
station  a  sentinel  without,  that,  in  case  anything  unusual 
should  happen,  alarm  might  be  given.  This  last  precau- 
tion would  doubtless  have  been  neglected,  but  for  the 
report  abroad,  that  a  small  body  of  Indians  had  been  seen, 
not  long  since,  within  a  few  miles  of  the  village.  In  con- 
sequence of  this  rumor,  some  of  the  more  timid  had  re- 
paired to  the  block-house ;  but  the  majority  of  the  citizens 


THE   T7EDDING   AND   THE   ATTACK.  Ill 


of  Columbia  thought  lightly  of  the  news,  and  turned  not 
aside  from  their  usual  routine  of  business. 

The   guests  had  now  all  taken  their  seats  upon   rude 
benches,  ranged  around  the  walls  of  the  cabin,  which  had 
been  prepared  expressly  for  the  occasion  by  the  gardener. 
A  rough  chandelier,  constructed  of  wood,  in  feeble  imita- 
tion of  some  of  a  more  solid  material  in  the  older  settle- 
ments, and  which  also  owed  its  existence  to  the  genius  and 
labor  of  Ichabod,  was  suspended  from  the  ceiling  by  a 
small  iron  chain,  near  the  centre  of  the  apartment,  and 
supported  several  candles,  whose  combined  gleams  served 
to  render  every  object  distinct  to  the  eye  and  display  the 
youthful    and  healthy  looking   faces  of  the  surroundino- 
party,  the  expressions  of  which  had  grown  very  grave  pre- 
paratory to  the  coming  solemn  ceremony.     Beneath  this 
chandelier  stood  a  table,  on  which  were  a  Bible,  a  hymn- 
book,  a  vase  of  flowers,  and  two  brass  candlesticks  sup- 
porting tapers.     Beside  the  table  was  a  stool,  to  be  occu- 
pied by  the  clergyman  on  his  arrival,  and  during  the  ser- 
vice he  was  expected  to  perform.     Flowers,  too,  of  all  hues, 
had  been  liberally  scattered  over  the  white  and  sanded 
floor,  whose  fragrance  was  not  the  less  sweet  and  abun- 
dant, from  being  crushed,  occasionally,  beneath  the  pass- 
ing foot  of  some  bright-eyed  maiden  or  her  gay  gallant. 
Bouquets  and  festoons  decorated  the  walls,  and  added  a  rosy 
and  beautiful  back-ground  to  the  picture. 

At  weddings  of  this  period,  a  supper  and  dance  gene- 
rally succeeded;  but  on  the  present  occasion,  the  declin- 
ing health  of  her  mother,  together  with  the  late  loss  of 
her  father,  had  been  a  sufficient  reason  to  induce  Kate  to 
dispense  with  the  latter.  The  supper,  however,  had  not 
been  omitted.  It  was  already  laid  on  tables  in  the  adjoin- 
ing apartment ;  and  was,  like  almost  everything  else  about 
the  premises,  under  the   careful  supervision   of  Ichabod 


112  KATE   CLARENDON. 

Longtree — who,  in  addition  to  the  qualities  of  gardener 
and  hostler,  could,  when  occasion  required,  fulfil  the  duties 
of  chief  cook  and  butler. 

All  was  ready,  and  waited  only  the  coming  of  the  groom 
and  the  clergyman,  to  begin  the  solemn  and  sacred  rite. 
A  deep  and  profound  silence  reigned  in  the  apartment, 
where  the  wedding  guests  were  seated,  in  stern  repose,  like 
so  many  wax  figures. 

As  the  first  sensation  to  the  touch  of  fire  and  ice  is  the 
same — so,  as  a  general  thing,  the  feelings  immediately 
preceding  a  wedding  and  a  funeral  are  strangely  alike. 
There  steals  over  the  spectator,  on  both  occasions,  a  secret 
awe,  an  unaccountable  solemnity,  that  he  finds  impossible 
to  shake  off.  Such  was  the  feeling  pervading  the  assem- 
blage on  the  occasion  here  described.  From  a  lively  and 
even  gay  conversation,  the  voices  of  the  different  speakers 
had  gradually  died  away  to  whispers,  and  finally  had 
ceased  altogether.  As  minute  after  minute  rolled  by,  and 
no  sounds  were  heard  indicating  the  approach  of  the  ex- 
pected parties,  the  guests  began  to  look  at  each  other 
inquiringly,  with  faces  expressive  of  surprise  at  the  delay ; 
and  then  low  whispers  stole  around  the  circle,  of  strange 
conjectures,  giving  a  more  gloomy  turn  to  the  whole 
affair. 

As  for  Kate,  her  features  had  become  as  white,  and 
almost  as  rigid,  as  marble ;  and  as  she  sat  in  full  light, 
robed  in  her  wedding  garments,  clasping  the  thin,  trans- 
parent hand  of  her  mother,  and  gazing  at  vacancy,  one 
could  easily  have  fancied  her  a  beautiful  conception,  chis- 
eled from  the  cold,  inanimate  stone.  The  flush  mentioned 
as  surmounting  the  features  of  Mrs.  Clarendon,  had  rather 
suddenly  given  place  to  a  pallor  almost  frightful ;  and  her 
now  deeply  sunken  eyes  roved  around  the  apartment,  ner* 


THE   WEDDING    AND    THE    ATTACK.  113 


vously,  over  the  whispering  group,  as  if  in  quest  of  some 
object  not  there. 

"  It  is  strange  they  do  not  come !"  she  said,  at  last,  in 
a  grate  voice. 

"  Hark  !"  excLaimed  Kate,  in  reply,  starting  to  her  feet, 
and  bending  forward  in  a  listening  attitude.  "  My  ears 
deceive  me,  or  I  hear  the  tramp  of  horses'  feet ;"  and  as 
she  concluded,  she  sprung  to  the  door,  followed  by  most  of 
the  others. 

It  was  a  calm,  beautiful  night,  and  everything  without 
seemed  wrapped  in  sweet  repose.  The  moon,  already  at  her 
full,  large  and  bright,  was  just  struggling  over  the  eastern 
hill,  and  pouring  her  gray  light  down  into  the  forest  of  the 
plain,  and  giving  every  object  a  twilight  indistinctness. 
Wherever  her  rays  fell  upon  the  Miama  and  Ohio,  their 
waters  shone  like  burnished  silver.  Along  the  base  of  the 
eastern  ridge,  mentioned  previously,  lay  a  deep  shadow, 
gradually  disappearing  as  the  moon  rose  on  high ;  while 
across  the  plain,  Bald  Hill  could  be  distinctly  seen,  loom- 
ing up  in  the  broad  light,  not  unlike  some  beacon  of  warn- 
ing. A  few  white  scuds  were  sailing  overhead;  and  a 
mist,  gradually  ascending  here  and  there,  defined  the 
course  of  the  rivers,  and  gave  indication  of  a  foggy  night. 

As  Kate  and  her  companions  turned  their  faces  toward 
the  west  and  listened,  the  tramp  of  horses  became  more 
audible,  until  at  last  the  shadowy  outline  of  two  figures 
could  be  seen  gliding  among  the  trees,  and  nearing  the 
spectators  at  a  fast  amble.  As  they  drew  close  upon  the 
cottage,  Kate  Clarendon  was  observed  to  tremble  quite  vio- 
lently. She  had  recognised  in  them  two  important  charac- 
ters— her  affianced  lover,  and  the  venerable  pastor  that 
was  to  bind  her  to  him  by  ties  the  most  strong  and  holy ; 
and  the  thought  of  this  all  important,  irrevocable  step,  was 
Bufficient  to  unstring  her  nerves,  and  produce  the  effecfc 
8  10* 


114  KATE   CLARENDON. 


described.  She  did  7:iot  ^ait  to  greet  either  of  the  new 
comers;  but  turned  abruptly  and  entered  the  dwelling,  at 
the  moment  when  Egbert  Stanley  and  the  divine  rode  up 
to  the  door. 

"  I  fear  I  liave  kept  you  waiting,  friends,"  said  the  for- 
mer, as  he  dismounted,  and  gave  his  horse  in  charge  of 
Ichabod;  "but  my  venerable  companion  here,  met  "with  a 
slight  accident  on  the  way,  which  detained  me  not  a  little." 
"What  happened?"  asked  half-a-dozen  voices  at  once. 
"  He  was  thrown  from  his  horse,  and  his  horse  thrown 
down,  by  a  rope  being  stretched  across  his  path,  and  nearly 
stunned  by  the  fall,"  answered  Stanley. 

"Foul!  foul  !"  cried  several  voices,  angrily. 
"I  am  poor,"  said  Clifton  ;  "but  I  would  give  fifty  dol- 
lars to  know  the  author  of  this  piece  of  villainy,  if  only  to 
chastise  him  for  the  insult  offered  me  and  my  friends." 

"Never  mind,  my  youthful  friend,"  said  the  divine,  in  a 
mild,  soothing  tone  of  voice ;  "  the  accident  was  only  tri- 
fling ;  I  feel  quite  well  again  ;  and  so  let  us  trouble  ourselves 
no  more  about  the  matter.  If  another  wrong  me,  I  never 
retaliate,  save  in  supplicating  for  him  at  the  throne  of 
mercy.  'Tis  a  sweet  and  satisfactory  revenge,  and  fulfils 
the  command  of  Scripture,  which  says,  '  Forgive  thine  ene- 
mies, and  pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use  you.'  Let 
us  in,  my  young  friends,  and  return  thanks  to  God  that  the 
affair  turned  out  no  worse." 

There  was  a  sweetness,  earnestness,  and  dignity,  in  the 
voice  and  manner  of  the  speaker,  that  w^as  not  without  its 
efi'ect  upon  his  youthful  hearers,  not  one  of  whom  ventured 
a  reply,  but  turned,  entered  the  cottage,  and  silently  re- 
sumed their  places.  As  the  venerable  pastor  took  his  seat 
at  the  table  before  described,  a  deep  silence  reigned  around. 
Every  lip  was  motionless — every  eye  was  fixed  upon  him. 
"  Is  all  ready  ?*'  he  asked,  in  a  low,  tremulous,  solemn 


THE    TTEDDIXG   AND    THE    ATTACK.  115 

voice,  speaking  to  Stanley,  "vvho  had  taken  his  place  on  the 
right  of  the  trembling  Kate.  Egbert  whispered  to  Mrs. 
Clarendon,  then  to  Kate,  and  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

*'Then  let  us  pray,"  said  the  pious  pastor;  and  forth- 
with he  knelt  upon  the  ground,  and  poured  forth  the  dic- 
tates of  his  heart,  in  a  strain  of  eloquence  seldom  surpassed. 
He  prayed  for  the  beings  before  him,  who  were  about  to 
become  one  flesh,  by  the  sacred  rite  of  marriage,  that  they 
might  always  live  happily  together  in  this  world,  and  meet 
in  holy  unison  to  part  nevermore  in  the  world  to  come. 
He  prayed  for  the  only  parent  of  the  bride,  whom  it  had 
pleased  God  to  afflict  with  disease  and  pain,  that  she  might 
be  spared  many  years  yet,  to  bless  and  comfort  those  who 
would  otherwise  mourn  her  with  tears  of  anguish.  He 
prayed  for  the  youth  of  both  sexes  here  present,  that  they 
might  so  conduct  themselves  as  to  be  ornaments  to  the  age 
in  which  they  lived,  and  that  the  generations,  which,  in  the 
order  of  events,  would  soon  follow  them,  might  be  strict 
imitators  of  their  noble  examples.  He  prayed  for  those 
absent — enemies  as  well  as  friends — and,  lastlv,  that  God 
would  prosper  and  preserve,  spotless  and  pure,  the  liberties 
of  the  great  Commonwealth,  to  gain  which  had  cost  the 
blood  of  thousands. 

As  he  ended,  he  rose  from  his  knees,  and,  opening  the 
Bible  on  the  stand  before  him,  selected  and  read  a  passage 
applicable  to  the  occasion.  He  then  bade  Egbert  and  Kate 
stand  upon  their  feet,  and  commenced  the  solemn  ceremony, 
amid  a  breathless  silence.  Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  the 
youthful  pair — upon  the  pale,  sweet  features  of  Kate,  as 
she  stood  downcast  and  trembling — upon  the  noble,  com- 
manding form  and  face  of  Egbert,  as  he  stood  erect  in  his 
close-fitting  uniform,  the  perfect  picture  of  youthful  pride. 
Every  head  was  inclined  forward,  to  catch  the  slightest 
tones  of  the  speaker.     Xever  did  a  pair  look  more  noble 


11 G  KATE   CLARENDON'. 

and  lovely  ;  never  was  an  occasion  more  solemn  ;  never  was 
a  silence,  whenever  the  speaker  paused,  more  deep.  Not 
a  breath,  even,  could  be  heard,  and  the  fall  of  a  pin  would 
have  been  audible.  All  felt  a  strange  sensation  of  awe  and 
fear,  as  if  some  calamity  were  about  to  befall  them,  yet 
none  could  give  a  reason  for  it.  Even  the  venerable  pastor 
himself  seemed  to  be  uncommonly  affected  ;  for  once  or 
twice  he  paused,  and  glanced  around  the  apartment,  as  if 
expecting  to  behold  some  unwelcome  object. 

Already  had  he  asked  the  necessary  questions,  received 
the  affirmative  answers,  and,  raising  his  eyes  above,  as  if 
appealing  to  Heaven,  the  solemn  words,  "I  pronounce  you 
man  and  wife,"  were  almost  trembling  on  his  lips,  when, 
suddenly,  the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle  without,  succeeded  im- 
mediately by  a  shout,  a  groan,  and  then  by  the  most  hor- 
rible yells  imaginable,  caused  every  face  to  blanch  with 
terror.  ^ 

The  next  moment  there  arose  the  alarming  cry  of  "In- 
dians! Indians  !"  accompanied  with  appalling  shrieks  and 
the  utmost  confusion.  Maidens  threw  their  frail  arms 
around  their  lovers  for  protection,  and  the  latter  strove  to 
disengage  themselves  and  rush  to  their  rifles,  which,  unfor- 
tunately, had  been  left  in  the  adjoining  cabin. 

In  the  midst  of  this  alarming  state  of  affairs,  Stanley 
drew  his  sword,  sprung  upon  the  table,  and  shouted,  '^  Or- 
der !  Silence !"  just  as  some  half-a-dozen  hideous  looking 
savages  burst  into  the  apartment,  uttering  terrific  yells  of 
fury. 

Kate,  surprised  to  "bewilderment,  had  thrown  her  arms 
around  her  mother,  who,  completely  overcome  by  the 
excitement,  had  sunk  to  the  floor  in  a  state  of  insensibility. 

For  a  moment  the  foremost  savage,  who  appeared  to 
be  chief  of  the  party,  looked  hurriedly  around  him,  as  if 
in  search  of  some  victim ;  when,  his  eyes  falling  upon  Kate, 


THE   T\'EDDIXG   AND    THE    ATTACK,  117 

he  shouted,  in  English,  "  She's  here,"  and  sprung  at  once 
to  her  side. 

Stanley  saw  the  movement;  and  in  his  haste  to  punish 
the  bold  intruder,  and  save  her  he  loved,  he  made  an 
attempt  to  leap  forward;  when  the  table  tilted,  upset,  and 
he  was  thrown  heavily  to  the  ground.  Before  he  could 
recover  his  feet,  the  hellish  work  of  the  savage  was  com- 
pleted. Tearing  Kate  rudely  from  the  embrace  of  her 
mother,  he  drew  his  knife  and  plunged  it  into  the  heart  of 
the  latter;  then  raising  the  former  in  his  arms,  lie  rushed 
to  the  door,  with  a  laugh  so  fiendish  it  made  the  liood  of 
all  who  heard  it  curdle,  and  bounding  into  the  open  air, 
darted  into  a  neighboring  thicket  with  his  prize. 

As  the  captor  of  Kate  sprung  through  the  door,  Stanley 
regained  his  feet,  in  time  to  see  her  disappear.  With  a 
cry  of  vengeance  and  despair,  he  leaped  forward  to  her 
rescue ;  when  a  blow  on  the  head,  from  one  of  the  Indians, 
intercepted  his  progress,  and  laid  him  senseless  on  the 
ground. 

Meantime,  the  onset  of  the  savages  had  been  terrific. 
With  horrible  yells,  tomahawk  in  hand,  they  rushed  upon 
the  unarmed  whites,  and  dealt  their  blows  on  every  side. 
Two  young  men  were  tomahawked  immediately,  and  their 
scalps  torn  quickly  from  their  bleeding  heads.  Two  others 
had  been  severely  wounded,  and  two  females  made  prison- 
ers;  when  Ichabod — who,  on  the  first  alarm,  had  escaped 
into  the  adjoining  cabin — returned  with  his  arms  loaded 
with  rifles.  With  a  presence  of  mind  and  dexterity  worthy 
a  hero,  he  managed  to  distribute  some  five  or  six  of  these 
weapons  among  his  friends,  ere  the  Indians  became  aware 
of  what  was  taking  place.  In  fact,  the  first  intimation 
they  had  of  the  matter,  was  from  the  discharge  of  one 
which  the  gardener  had  reserved  for  himself;  whereby  a 
powerful  savage,  who  was  darting  forward  to  seize  upon  a 


118  KATE   CLARENDON. 


terrified  female,  was  shot  through  the  body.  With  a  yell 
of  rage  and  pain,  he  bounded  up  from  the  ground  and  fell 
back  a  corpse.  This  astonished  the  dusky  warriors  press- 
ing on  his  rear,  and  they  paused  in  their  work  of  carnage. 
Perceiving  at  a  glance  that  several  of  the  whites  had  sud- 
denly become  armed,  and  were  preparing  to  deal  death 
among  them,  they  gave  vent  to  yells  of  fury  and  alarm, 
and  simultaneously  rushed  out  of  the  cottage,  bearing  their 
dead  comrade  with  them,  but  leaving  their  prisoners  behind. 
With  yells  little  less  frightful  than  their  own,  those  of  the 
whites  who  were  armed,  now  sallied  forth  to  give  chase.  As 
they  reached  the  door,  they  saw  the  savages  already  dodg- 
ing among  the  trees,  and  speeding  forward  with  a  velocity 
that  destroyed  all  hope  of  overtaking  them.  Besides, 
should  they  pursue,  it  was  more  than  probable  they  would 
be  drawn  into  an  ambuscade  and  all  cut  off;  and  acting 
with  more  wisdom  and  caution  than  is  usual  on  such  occa- 
sions, they  discharged  their  pieces  at  random  after  the  foe, 
and,  retreating  into  the  house,  instantly  closed  and  bolted 
the  door. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    PURSUERS. 

Onward  !  let  up  pursue,  with  feet  that  tire 
Not,  never,  while  we  justice  seek  on  theru 
That  have  done  this.     It  is  a  deed  to  damn 
The  doers — a  deed  that  Heaven  scorns — and  while 
The  life-blood  warms  cur  hearts,  we "11  falter  not, 
JsoT  pause  ;  and  peradventure  Heaven  will  send 
Us  aid;  if  not,  our  lives  shall  perish  in 
A  just  and  worthy  cause.     So  onward!  onward  ! 
To  the  rescue,  on! — Brixley's  Rescue. 

Short  but  bloody  had  been  the  work  of  that  enemy 
whose  heart  is  ever  shut  to  mercy  in  war.  When  Egbert 
regained  his  senses,  which  happened  at  the  moment  we 
have  chosen  to  close  the  preceding  chapter,  a  scene  was 
presented  to  his  vision,  well  calculated  to  make  the  stout- 
est heart  grow  sick  and  faint.  On  the  ground,  by  his  side, 
lay  the  mangled  remains  of  Danbury,  and  another  youth — 
who  had  come  hither,  but  an  hour  before,  full  of  life,  and 
hope,  and  buoyant  feelings — now  fast  growing  cold  in  the 
embrace  of  death — their  once  handsome  features  distorted 
and  bloody,  and  their  scalps  already  dangling  at  the  girdle 
of  some  inhuman  monster  of  the  forest.  A  little  further 
on,  half  hid  in  the  shadow  of  the  dim  light  of  the  apart- 
ment, he  saw  the  form  of  her  who  had  given  birth  to  the 
idol  of  his  affections,  now  lying  at  full  length  upon  the 
ground — her  white  dress  frightfully  stained  with  the  red 
current  of  life,  which  had  spouted  from  her  breast — her 
features  pale,  and,  save  a  slight  contraction,  caused  by  the 
death-spasm,  looking  as  calm  and  sweet  as  if  she  had  just  sunk 
into  a  gentle  sleep.     Above  and  around  him,  all  was  noise 

(119) 


120  KATE    CLARENDON. 


and  confaslon.  Several  females  were  huddling  together  in 
one  corner,  as  if  striving  to  shrink  from  the  foe,  still  shriek- 
ing for  aid,  and  apparently  not  aware  that  the  enemy  had 
vanished.  Some  were  groaning  with  pain,  some  were  run- 
ning to  and  fro  completely  bewildered,  and  some  were 
shouting  for  silence ;  but  all  was  yet  Babel-like  com- 
motion. 

Egbert  felt  a  slight  dizziness  in  his  head,  and  the  blood 
trickling  over  his  face.  Raising  his  hand  to  the  wound, 
he  comprehended  all  at  once.  The  savage  had  struck  him 
once  with  a  tomahawk,  which,  instead  of  splitting  open 
his  skull,  as  intended,  had  glanced  along  the  bone,  and 
made  a  frightful  incision.  The  blow  had  stunned  and 
felled  him,  and  thus  his  life  had  been  preserved.  Notwith- 
standing his  wound,  he  instantly  sprung  to  his  feet,  as 
though  it  were  a  mere  scratch ;  and  in  a  voice  of  authority, 
whose  tones  were  distinctly  audible  above  all  the  tumult, 
commanded  silence.  As  if  each  acknowledged  his  right  to 
command,  all  at  once  became  still,  and  every  eye  was 
turned  inquiringly  upon  him.  His  features  were  pale  with 
excitement,  down  which  the  blood  was  tricklins:  in  lon^r, 
red  streaks,  and  dropping  upon  and  soiling  his  splendid 
uniform,  rendering  him  an  object  painful  to  behold — so 
that  many  gazed  upon  him  with  awe,  not  unlike  what 
they  would  have  felt  on  beholding  one  rise  from  the 
dead. 

"Friends,"  he  said,  "this  is  a  terrible  scene,  and  must 
be  avenged.  She  who  was  so  late  among  you,  almost  a 
bride,  has  been  torn  away,  and  is  now  a  captive  to  a  merci- 
less foe — if,  in  fact,  the  thirsty  tomahawk  of  her  captor 
has  not  already  drank  of  her  innocent  blood.  Yonder, 
behold  the  gory  corpse  of  her  mother  !  Shall  these  inhuman 
monsters  go  unpunished  ?  Shall  we  not  start  upon  her  trail 


THE   PURSUERS.  121 


— swearing  to  rescue  her  if  living — if  dead  to  avenge — or 
leave  our  bones  to  whiten  the  soil  of  the  red  man?" 

Cries  of  "Yes!  yes!"  resounded  on  all  sides;  while 
those  who  had  weapons,  grasped  them  tightly ;  and  their 
eyes  flashed,  and  their  features  wore  expressions  of  the 
most  resolute  determination. 

"  My  poor  body's  devoted  to  the  rescue  of  my  last  and 
only  friend — my  poor,  sweet  mistress,"  rejoined  Ichabod, 
with  a  strong  burst  of  emotion,  that  brought  the  tear  to 
many  an  eye. 

"I  knew  you  were  men  !"  said  Egbert,  in  a  tone  of  de- 
cision. "  Let  us  do,  rather  tha-t  say !  Prepare,  those  of 
you  who  are  disposed  to  follow  me,  and  let  us  depart  forth- 
with!" 

"But  the  women,  the  wounded,  and  dead — what  of 
them?"  asked  one. 

"  Let  two  or  three  remain  here,  while  one  mounts  the 
fleetest  horse  and  bears  tidings  of  the  dire  calamity  to  the 
village.  There  is  no  danger  here  at  present ;  for  the  sava- 
ges, having  accomplished  their  hellish  work,  are  already  on 
their  homeward  retreat.  We  must  strive  to  overtake  them 
on  the  way." 

"But  how  shall  we  follow,  not  knowing  whither  they 
went  ?"  asked  the  same  voice  which  had  spoken  before,  and 
which  Stanley  now  became  aware  proceeded  from  the  lips 
of  Danvers. 

"  I  know  by  their  war-paint,"  answered  the  young  officer, 
"  that  they  are  a  detachment  of  the  Piquas ;  and,  if  my 
eyes  did  not  deceive  me,  were  led  by  a  white  man." 

"By  heavens!  I  see  it  all!"  said  Danvers,  in  reply. 
"  It  is  that  inhuman  wretch.  Moody." 

A  mingled  expression  of  horror  and  loathing,  with  a  de- 
termination to  be  revenged,  was  now  visible  on  nearly  every 
face. 

11 


]22  KATE   CLARENDON^. 


J 


"  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  right,"  rejoined  Stanley  ;  ''  for 
the  size  of  his  person,  and  the  shape  of  his  features,  as 
described  to  me,  correspond  exactly  with  the  monster  I 
beheld." 

"  He  shall  die  a  dog's  death  !"  shouted  one. 

"  Hung  and  quartered,  without  judge  or  jury  1"  said 
another. 

*' Roasted  over  a  slow  fire!"  responded  a  third. 

"  He  shall  chew  his  own  heart !"  added  a  fourth 

"Ay,  but  let  us  catch  him  first,"  timed  in  Stanley. 
"While  we  tarry  he  is  fleeing.     Let  us  act  at  once." 

"  Ay  !  ay  !"  shouted  half-a-dozen  voices. 

"  Before  you  go,  my  friends,  upon  a  journey  that  may  be 
your  last,  let  us  unite  in  prayer,  to  that  God  who  does  all 
things  for  the  best,  and  for  our  good,  even  when  visiting 
us  with  sore  afilictions,"  said  the  venerable  and  pious  clergy- 
man—who, throughout  the  affray,  had  been  left  unharmed, 
and  had  remained,  so  far,  a  quiet  and  seemingly  unmoved 
spectator,  with  his  arms  meekly  folded  on  his  breast,  the 
picture  of  humility  and  resignation.  "  Let  us  call  upon 
our  Maker  for  aid,  in  this  our  sorest  need!"  and  kneeling 
upon  the  ground,  he  extended  his  arms  aloft,  and  made  a 
most  fervent  and  eloquent  prayer,  which  was  rendered 
doubly  solemn  by  the  mournfulness  of  the  occasion. 

When  this  was  over,  Stanley  gave  orders  for  those  who 
were  to  accompany  him,  to  prepare  themselves  and  set  forth 
immediately.  Some  six  or  eight  of  the  party,  among  whom 
were  Danvers  and  Ichabod,  volunteered  their  services  at 
once ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  all  were  ready  for  the  perilous 
journey.  The  pastor,  and  one  or  two  others,  remained  to 
take  charge  of  the  nearly  distracted  females,  until  aid 
should  arrive  from  the  village— when  the  wounded  would 
be  better  cared  for,  and  the  dead  consigned  to  dust,  with 
all  due  ceremony. 


THE  PURSUERS.  l--^ 


Collecting  what  weapons  they  could,  together  with  a 
good  supply  of  ammunition,  the  party  in  a  few  minutes 
formed  around  Stanley,  as  their  leader,  who  announced  to 
the  rest,  that  the  solemn  moment  of  separation  had  arrived. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  scene  which  en- 
sued. Each  seemed  for  a  time  to  give  himself  up  to  his 
strongest  feelings.  Lovers  rushed  to  each  other  with  a 
freedom  and  wildness  which  nothing  but  a  similar  occasion 
could  justify,  threw  themselves  into  each  other's  arms,  and 
clung  around  each  other's  necks,  as  if  they  felt  the  separa- 
tion to  be  eternal ;  while  groans,  cries,  and  sobs  of  anguish, 
resounded  on  all  sides.  For  some  moments  all  was  great 
commotion ;  but  gradually  the  tumult  ceased,  until  nothing 
could  be  heard  but  a  low  murmur,  in  a  choked  voice,  or  a 
deep  drawn  sigh,  or  a  half  stifled  burst  of  grief. 

"  ^Ye  waste  time,"  said  Stanley,  at  length. 

"Go,  my  friends,  and  God  be  with  you!"  said  the 
preacher,  solemnly:  "and  Heaven  send  you  may  return 
with  the  maiden  you  seek — the  flower  of  the  forest !" 

"Amen  !"  responded  Stanley,  and  two  or  three  others  ; 
and  throwing  open  the  door,  the  bereaved  lover  rushed  out, 
followed  immediately  by  his  companions. 

"  I  must  detain  you  one  moment  more,"  he  added,  as  he 
felt  a  sharp  pain  in  his  head ;  and  springing  back  into  the 
house,  he  called  for  a  bandage.  This  was  quickly  supplied, 
and  bound  around  his  wound:  then  hastily  washing  the 
blood  from  his  face,  he  rejoined  his  party. 

"Let  us  follow  the  Miami,"  he  continued;  for  I  know 
of  no  better  plan ;  and  it  is  possible  that  in  the  morning 
we  may  strike  upon  their  trail." 

"  Is  there  none  of  our  party  that  understand  trailing  the 
savage  ?"  asked  one. 

"  I  fear  not,"  replied  Stanley.     "  I  know  of  an  experi- 


124  KATE   CLARENDON. 


I 


enced  scout ;  but  he  is  far  away  now,  in  another  part  of 

the  country.     I  wouhl  to  Heaven  lie  were  here  !"  •^ 

"  And  what  may  be  his  name  ?"  inquired  a  strange  voice; 
■^N-hich  all  immediately  became  aware  proceeded  from  a 
fio-ure,  a  few  ]  aces  distant,  that  was  nearing  them  with  long 
and  steady  strides.  "  What  may  be  the  scout's  name 
you've  just  alluded  to,  Lieutenant?"  he  asked  again,  as  he 
came  up,  addressing  himself  to  Stanley. 

"  David  Grant,"  answered  the  young  officer,  endeavoring 
to  make  out  the  features  of  the  new  comer,  as  he  paused 
in  the  shadow  cast  by  the  moon. 

"I'm  David  Grant,"  was  the  laconic  response. 

*'  Great  Heaven !  David,  what  sent  you  here  so  oppor- 
tunely?" cried  Stanley,  grasping  the  hard,  weather-beaten 
hand  of  the  other,  with  a  pressure  of  unmistakeable  joy. 

"  May  be  Heaven  did,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

"It  would  seem  so,"  rejoined  Egbert;  "for  of  all  men, 
you  are  the  one  I  most  desired  to  see,  at  this  momentous 
crisis." 

"Something's  gone  wrong,   I  reckon?"  said  David,  in 

reply. 

Stanley  now  hurriedly  narrated  the  leading  features  of 
the  events  we  have  so  feebly  described. 

"I  'spected  as  much,"  rejoined  the  scout,  when  the 
other  had  concluded.     "  He  told  me  I'd  be  wanted." 

*  He  !  who  ?"  cried  several  of  the  party,  in  astonishment. 

"Don't  know  who,"  replied  the  other,  "for  he  was  a 
stranger  to  me.  He  spoke  like  a  man,  but  looked  like  the 
devil." 

"Was  he  tall,  ill-dressed,  raw-boned,  and  ugly?"  in- 
quired Egbert,  quickly. 

"  W^ell,  he  was  all  that." 

"  Had  a  long,  flowing  beard  ?" 

"  Powerful  long  beard  he  had." 


THE    PURSUED S.  125 


"And  seemed  partly  blind  ?" 

"  For  tbe  matter  o'  that,  he  looked  like  he  might  be 
blind  altogether,"  was  the  reply. 

"  It  was  the  Necromancer,"  returned  Egbert,  gravely. 

"Ay!  that  mysterious  Blind  Luther,  and  none  other," 
said  Danvers,  shaking  his  head  with  a  superstitious  air. 

"  Where  did  you  see  him  ?  and  what  did  he  say  to  you  ?" 
asked  the  Lieutenant. 

"I  was  scouting  in  the  forest,  more'n  forty  miles  dis- 
tant," answered  Grant;  "  v/hen's  I  passed  around  a  tree, 
my  hair  riz  right  up,  on  hearing  a  voice  say : 

"  '  Hold,  David  !' 

"  I  tried  to  tree,  but  couldn't,  for  a  big  hand  on  my 
shoulder,  that  wouldn't  let  me  go. 

"  '  Who  are  you  ?'  says  L 

"  '  A  messenger  of  fate,'  says  he. 

"  '  What  d'ye  want  with  me  ?' 

"'Hie  thee  to  Columbia,'  he  says,  *  and  inquire  for 
Lieutenant  Stanley's  wedding.' 

"  '  I  didn't  know  he  was  going  to  be  married,'  says  L 

"'Do  as  I  bid  thee,  and  ask  no  questions!'  says  he; 
*  and  be  sure  you  reach  there  at  an  early  hour,  on  such  a 
night,  (this  is  the  night,)  when  you'll  find  yourself  wanted, 
and  orders  will  be  given  you  what  to  do.' 

"Short  on't  is,  gentlemen,  I'm  here;  though  sometimes 
I  did  quarrel  with  David  Grant — thinking  as  how  I  was 
going  on  a  fool's  errand,  or  at  a  madman's  beck." 

"  You  could  never  have  come  at  a  better  time,  unless  it 
had  been  to  warn  us  of  danger,"  said  Stanley,  solemnly. 
"  Now,  David,  I  have  told  you  the  circumstances,  and  v/uit 
your  advice  on  the  matter." 

"You  say  you  think  they're  Piquas?" 

"  I  am  almost  sure  of  it." 

11* 


126  KATE    CLAREXDOX. 

"  And  "what  object  had  tlicy  in  doing's  they  did,  'spect 
you?" 

"  Their  leader,  I  think,  is  a  Avhite  man  disguised,  whose 
sole  object  was  to  get  possession  of  the  girl.  Some  months 
ago,  he  was  a  suitor  to  her  hand,  and  she  rejected  him,  and 
he  swore  revenge.  Shortly  after,  her  father  was  murdered 
by  his  hand.  To-night  he  has  butchered  her  mother  in 
cold  blood,  and  made  her  captive  for  some  hellish  end,  of 
which  I  groan  to  think." 

For  a  moment  the  scout  mused,  as  one  in  deep  thought, 
and  then  said : 

"  I  'spect  you're  right,  Lieutenant,  and  that  I  know  the 
party  with  him.     How'd  they  number  ?" 

"  Not  more  than  ten  or  twelve,  as  near  as  I  can  judge." 

"  It's  them,  for  a  wager.  I've  been  on  their  trail,  not  a 
week  ago ;  and  now  I  comprehend  the  spread  moccasin." 

*'  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Stanley. 

"  Why,  there  was  one  moccasin  among  'em,  that  toed 
out'ard,  like  a  white   man's;  and  I  says  to  myself  then, 
'David   Grant,  that's   ayther  a  pris'ner    or  a  renegade.' 
I'm  glad  you've  told  me  of  this,  for  now  I  reckon  to  find 
'em.     Nigh's  I  can  come  to  it,  they  don't  belong  to  the 
^'/  regular  tribe  o'  Piquas ;  but  are  a  kinder  o'  outlawry  vaga- 
bonds, that  skulk  about  on  their  own  hook,  and  are  most 
powerful  mean  cowards.'* 
/      As  David  delivered   himself  of  this,  he  strode   forward 
I  into  the  moonlight,  and  displayed  the  lineaments  of  a  being 
'  well  calculated  for  a  life  in  the  woods.     He  was  about  thir- 
tv-five  years  of  age,  and  above  the  ordinary  stature.     His 
form  was  shriveled  and  sinewy,  as  if  dried  and  contracted 
I  by  long  exposure  to  the  weather.     His  features  were  long, 
thin  and  bony ;  and  his  small  black  eyes  were  continually 
rolling  about,  with  a  nervous  motion,  as  if  eternally  on  the 
look  out   for  danger.     His   long,   shaggy  hair  was   sur- 


THE  PURSUEES.  12' 


mounted  with  a  roughly  formed  cap,  made  from  the  un- 
tanned  skin  of  some  wild  animal.  He  wore  a  hunting-shirt 
of  linsey-woolsey,  to  which  was  attached  a  large  cape, 
fringed  with  red.  Around  his  waist  was  a  belt,  in  which 
were  a  scalping-knife  and  tomahawk.  He  wore  moccasins 
on  his  feet,  and  around  his  neck  was  suspended  a  large 
powder-horn  and  bullet-pouch,  and  in  his  hand  he  held  a 
long  rifle. 

Ag  David  stepped  forth,  he  immediately  began  a  survey 

'  of  the  heavens  above,  and  the  earth  beneath,  with  the  air 

of  one  long  practiced  in  the  art  of  reading  the  signs  of  the 

forest,  so  necessary  in  determining  the  movements  of  the 

woodman. 

"  It's  a  going  to  be  a  foggy  night,"  he  said ;  "  that  a 
child  could  tell ;  for  already  now  the  clouds  of  mist  are  lift- 
ing their  heads  along  the  trail  o'  the  rivers,  and  rolling  out 
ayther  way,  while  a  thick  haze's  beginning  to  darken  the 
moon.  I  see,  by  the  ground  signs,  the  varmints  have  took 
up  the  river ;  and  so  I  reckon  our  best  course  is  to  follow 
that,  and  git  as  far's  we  can  afore  daylight;  and  it's  not 
-  impossible  we'll  head  'em  off,  or  come  upon  their  camp." 
.  "  Then  let  us  go  at  once,"  said  Stanley,  impatiently. 

"  Don't  hurry,  Lieutenant,"  returned  David,  respectfully, 
bendlnoi:  down  to  examine  the  orround  at  his  feet :  "  there's 
nothing  made  by  hurrying — 'specially  when  you've  got  to 
go  by  signs.  Here's  the  trail,  sure  enough,"  he  continued  ; 
"  and  a  bloody  one  'tis,  too.  Ha  I  there's  been  a  scuffle 
here,  I  know  by  the  ground  being  trod  a  few.  Any  o' 
your  party  fight  outside?" 

"  Heavens  !  it  is  the  sentinel !"  exclaimed  Danvers ;  "  for 
it  was  here  he  was  stationed.*' 

The  sentinel  it  proved  to  be ;  for  the  next  moment  the 
poor  fellow  was  discovered,  a  few  paces  distant,  lying  on 
his  breast,  and  his  head  bloody  from  the  recent  removal  of 


128  KATE    CLARENDON. 


his  scalp.  His  rifle  was  found  near  him,  discharged,  and 
the  breech  broken,  showing  that  he  had  done  his  best  for 
himself  and  friends. 

Examining  the  body,  and  finding  that  life  was  extinct, 
our  party,  with  a  few  words  of  eulogy  and  regret,  passed 
on,  leaving  his  remains  to  be  taken  care  of  by  those 
who  remained  behind.  In  a  few  minutes  they  were  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  great  forest ;  and  silence,  deep  and  gloomy, 
reigned  over  the  scene  so  lately  rife  with  tumult  and  blood- 
shed. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   RENEGADE   AND    HIS    CAPTIVE. 

A  sotjXDIXG  cavern,  large  and  dark  and  full 

Of  terror  to  the  shrinking,  trembling  captive. — Anoh, 

A  strong  adversary,  an  inhuman  ■wretch, 

Incapable  of  pity,  void  and  empty 

From  every  drachm  of  mercy. — Shakspeare. 

Thy  suing  to  this  man  were  as  the  bleating 
Of  the  lamb  to  the  butcher,  or  the  cry 
Of  seamen  to  the  surge. — Byron. 

Some  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the 
Little  Miama,  and  forming  the  eastern  boundary  of  a  plain 
not  unlike  the  one  described  in  the  opening  pages  of  this 
story,  is  a  stony  ridge,  to  which  we  must  now  invite  the 
reader's  attention.  In  one  place,  this  ridge  leaves  the 
plain  abruptly,  by  an  acclivity  so  steep  as  to  make  ascen- 
sion a  matter  of  difiiculty.  Huge  rocks,  whose  fronts  are 
neither  more  nor  less  than  precipices,  here  rise  one  above 
the  other,  to  a  height  of  many  feet,  and  altogether  pre- 
sent a  very  formidable  and  imposing  appearance.  Be- 
tween these  rocks,  which  appear  to  have  been  thrown 
together  by  some  great  convulsions  of  nature,  are  many 
deep  fissures,  through  which  has  struggled  upward  a  growth 
of  small,  scraggy  trees  and  shrubbery,  that  instead  of 
beautifying,  only  tend  to  increase  the  wildness  and  gloomi- 
ness of  the  scene. 

By  a  circuitous  route,  and  careful  footsteps,  you  can 
gain  a  point  on  one  of  these  rocks,  which  to  the  eye  unac- 
customed to  the  spot,  seems  one  of  imminent  peril.  The 
point  alluded  to,  is  elevated  above  the  plain  a  hundred  and 
9  '  (129) 


130  KATE    CLAREXBOX. 


fifty  feet,  and  forms  an  area  of  not  more  than  fifty  square 
yards.  Immediately  in  your  front,  below  you,  as  you  face 
the  west,  the  rock  is  perpendicular  for  a  distance  of  thirty 
feet.  Behind  you  rises  another  perpendicular  rock,  and 
on  either  side  is  a  deep  and  gloomy  chasm.  Through  one 
of  these — that  at  your  right  hand — flows  a  rapid  streamlet, 
whose  waters,  unseen  from  where  you  stand,  gurgling  over 
the  rocks  below,  send  upward  a  hollow,  dismal  sound,  that 
invariably  causes  the  spectator,  who  visits  it  for  the  first 
time,  to  wish  himself  once  more  safe  on  the  plain  below. 

Gloomy  as  is  the  place  in  question,  it  is  not  Avithout  its 
attractions.  The  eye  here  embraces  an  extensive  scope  of 
country,  spread  before  it  like  a  map.  A  large  and  well- 
cultivated  plain,  of  two  or  three  miles  in  breadth — through 
the  centre  of  which  winds  the  glassy  stream  so  often  men- 
tioned, interspersed  with  here  and  there  a  tidy  farm  house, 
or  a  cluster  of  white  dwellings,  forming  a  village,  with  the 
steeple  of  its  church,  overlooking  it  with  an  air  of  guar- 
dianship— stretches  away  to  the  north  and  south,  and  con- 
trasts delightfully  with  the  rougher  and  wilder  scenery  at 
hand. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  write,  however,  the  plain  had 
none  of  the  attractions  of  civilization  it  now  presents  ;  but 
a  mighty,  unbroken  forest,  instead,  lay  on  its  bosom,  in 
whose  dark  recesses  danger  everywhere  lurked,  and  man 
and  beast  warred  with  themselves  and  each  other  con- 
tinually. 

It  was  late  on  the  day  succeeding  the  capture  of  Kate 
Clarendon,  that  a  tall,  slim  figure,  in  the  costume  of  an 
Indian,  leaped,  with  a  light  bound,  across  the  chasm  on 
the  left,  and  paused  for  a  moment,  upon  the  platform  of 
the  rock  we  have  described.  The  sun  was  already  sinking 
in  the  west,  and  his  rays  streamed  softly  along  the  tops  of 
the  trees,  tipping  them  with  gold,  throwing  the  figure  into 


THE    RENEGADE    AND    HIS    CAPTIYE.  IGl 

bold  relief,  and  burnishing  the  huge  erections  of  nature, 
until  one  could,  with  but  little  stretch  of  the  imagination, 
fancy  them  colossal  images  of  brass. 

We  have  said  the  figure  was  costumed  like  an  Indian  ; 
but  that  he  was  not  of  this  race,  was  evident  from  the 
whiteness  of  his  skin,  wherever  the  removal  of  the  paint, 
by  perspiration  or  otherwise,  permitted  it  to  be  seen. 
There  were  other  signs  going  to  prove  him  not  a  native 
warrior.  His  arms  seemed  tender,  as  if  not  accustomed  to 
exposure,  and  were  scratched  in  several  places,  by  bram- 
bles and  thorns,  so  as  to  render  them  swollen  and  sore. 
The  feathers,  intended  as  ornaments  to  his  scalp-lock,  had 
also  become  disarranged,  in  a  manner  that  the  pride  of  a 
native  Indian  would  never  have  permitted.  Around  his 
waist  he  wore  a  wampum  belt,  supporting  a  brace  of  pis- 
tols, a  tomahawk  ;  and  scalping  knife.  As  he  paused  upon 
the  rock,  he  ran  his  black,  fiery  eye  over  the  plain,  for  a 
moment,  as  if  to  be  certain  no  one  was  approaching.  Then 
he  glanced  cautiously  around  him,  and  a  malignant  expres- 
-sion  of  triumph  lighted  up  and  gradually  settled  over  his 
features. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  I  have  her  safe  now  !"  he  exclaimed, 
with  an  oath;  and  moving  to  the  side  of  the  rock  over- 
hanging the  stream,  he  began  to  let  himself  down  its  jaggy 
sides,  and  presently  disappeared  altogether. 

There  was,  on  this  side,  a  rough  kind  of  staircase,  overhang- 
ing: the  foaming  flood;  and  down  this  the  figure  descended 
rtipidly,  taking  hold  of  the  bushes  and  projections;  to  pre- 
vent himself  from  falling,  until  he  came  to  a  spot  where 
the  rock  jutted  completely  over  the  stream,  and  formed  a 
sure  foundation  to  his  feet.  Halting  here  for  a  moment, 
and  listening  the  while,  he  turned  to  the  right,  and  passing 
under  the  rocky  bank,  entered  the  mouth  of  a  cavern, 
which  extended  back  into  the  hill  a  considerable  distance. 


132  KATE    CLAFvEXDOX. 


Hurrying  rapidly  forward,  through  a  narrow  passage,  he 
at  last  came  to  a  stone,  which  he  with  difficulty  removed, 
and  emerged  into  an  apartment  of  great  breadth  and  size, 
dimly  lighted  by  a  small  opening  or  fissure  In  the  rock 
above,  whence  trickled  down,  or  rather  filtered  through, 
just  sufficient  water  to  render  the  rock  beneath  wet  and 
slippery. 

Here  the  figure  paused  again,  and  endeavored  to  peer 
into  the  further  recesses  of  the  cave;  but  it  was  evident 
from  his  manner,  and  the  fact  that  he  had  so  recently 
come  from  the  broad  light  of  day  into  a  place  never  at  any 
time  more  than  twilight,  that  he  could  not  discern  a  single 
object.  Stepping  aside  somewhat,  to  avoid  the  dripping 
water,  he  at  once  proceeded  to  strike  a  light.  A  half- 
burnt  torch  lay  on  the  floor  of  the  cavern ;  which,  re-light- 
ing, he  proceeded  to  search  the  place,  holding  this  in  his 
hand,  elevated  above  his  head,  so  as  to  enable  him  to  dis- 
cern each  thing  distinctly. 

For  some  time  it  was  evident  by  his  lowering  brow, 
angry  visage,  and  keen  searching  eyes,  that  he  was  unable 
to  find  the  object  sought.  But  at  length  he  paused,  uttered 
a  wild  yell,  not  unlike  an  Indian,  and  then  sprung  forward 
to  a  dark  corner  of  the  cavern,  where  another  figure, 
arrayed  in  white,  was  crouched,  and  trembling  with  terror. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  I  have  thee  now  !"  he  cried,  with  a  hoarse 
burst  of  passion,  and  a  laugh  like  a  fiend ;  and  the  next 
moment  he  stood  over  the  crouching  object,  waving  his 
torch  from  side  to  side,  and  resembling,  as  the  light  flashed 
upon  his  dark,  malignant  face,  some  infernal  spirit,  about 
to  seize  upon  an  innocent  victim. 

"Oh,  God!  to  what  am  I  destined!"  exclaimed  in  sil- 
very, but  heart-touching  tones,  the  voice  of  the  unhappy 
object  at  the  monster's  feet.  At  the  same  moment,  the 
gloomy  light  fell  upon  the  pale,  sweet  features  of  a  terri- 


THE    RENEGADE   AXD    HIS    CAPTIVE.  1C3 


fied    female,    as     she    attempted    to    rise    and    confront 
her  foe. 

"Destined  to  perdition  with  me !"  returned  the  savao-e, 
with  another  fiendish  laugh,  roughly  grasping  an  arm  of 
the  maiden,  and  raising  her  to  an  upright  posture.  "  Xow 
I  have  thee,  Kate  Clarendon,  and  thou  shalt  this  time  feel 
the  vengeance  of  Rashton  Moody." 

"  Unhand  and  let  me  go,  if  thou  art  a  man  !"  screamed 
Kate,  in  terror. 

Moody  uttered  a  mocking  laugh. 

"  Talk  to  the  wind!"  he  cried,  furiously — ''  not  to  me  ! 
If  I  am  a  man  !  I  like  that !  2f  I  am  a  man  I  But  I 
am  not  a  man,  sweet  beauty.  I  was  a  man ;  but  you,  yen 
made  a  demon  of  me ;  and  now  my  hour  has  come — my 
time  of  vengeance  is  at  hand  !" 

"But  what  have  I  done  to  merit  this?"  said  the  other, 
in  a  pleading  tone. 

"  Done  ? — come,  I  like  that.  Done  all  that  a  woman 
could,  to  make  him  hate  who  once  loved  her.  Done,  fool- 
ish girl !  why,  did  you  not  coquette  with  me,  and  lead  me 
to  believe  I  was  loved,  that  I  might  be  a  laughing  stock 
among  my  fellows?" 

"As  God  is  my  judge,  Rashton  Moody,  I  did  not." 

"What  then?" 

"  I  explained  the  matter  to  you  once — have  you  forgot- 
ten it?" 

"  And  are  too  proud  or  haughty,  I  suppose,  to  do  so 
again.  Well,  well,  it  matters  not ;  for  iioiv  you  are  in  my 
power,  indeed ;  and  I  will  teaoh  you  a  lesson  of  humility 
ere  you  depart,  that  you  will  remember  to  the  latest  mo- 
ment of  your  life." 

As  he  spoke,  he  grasped  her  arm  tightly,  and  peered 
into  her  sweet  countenance,  with  a  look  of  diabolical  tri- 

12 


134  KATE    CLARENDON. 


i> 


umpli,  that  caused  Kate  to  shudder  and  feel  sick  to  her 
very  soul. 

"  What  mean  you  by  such  language  ?"  she  faintly 
asked. 

"  Hark  you,  Kate  Clarendon !  I  told  you  once  I  loved 
you — did  I  not  ?" 

"  Foolish  words  from  a  foul  tongue,"  replied  Kate,  in- 
dignantly. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  sneered  Moody.  "Never  mind  ;  it 
is  of  little  importance  now,  whether  I  told  you  true  or  not. 
I  would  have  wedded  you ;  but  you  refused  me — did  you 
not?" 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  proud  beauty  !  I'll  soon  teach  you  well ! — but  to 
my  story.  You  refused  me ;  you  trifled  first,  led  me  to 
hope,  and  then  refused  me.  I  was  wild  with  passion;  and 
in  an  evil  moment  I  sought  to  bear  you  away.  Had  you 
left  me  to  do  as  I  pleased,  no  wrong  would  have  followed ; 
but  you  attempted  to  escape ;  and  then  I  swore  you  should 
be  mine,  living  or  dead,  I  little  cared  which.  I  caught  you, 
and  would  have  executed  my  design  upon  you  then — would 
have  sent  your  soul,  unpolluted,  into  the  presence  of  your 
Maker— had  I  not  been  struck  to  the  ground  by  the  only 
being  on  earth  I  fear.  Who  he  is,  or  what  he  is,  I  know 
not ;  but  over  me  he  exercises  an  influence  beyond  my  skill 
to  shake  off  or  explain.  Then  cam.e  your  father,  and 
struck  me— (here  Moody  paused  for  some  moments,  during 
which  his  features  worked  convulsively,  his  hands  clenched 
and  unclenched,  his  teeth  grated  against  each  other,  and 
his  breath  came  hard  through  his  expanded  nostrils,)  he 
struck  me!— mark  that  !— disgraced  me  !— but  he  —  he 
paid  for  it !— ha,  ha,  ha  !— the  blow  was   returned  with 

interest,  by !"  and  he  closed  with  an  oath,  while  Kate 

covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands  and  groaned  aloud. 


THE    RENEGADE    AND    HIS    CAPTIVE.  135 

^'  Come  look  up  !"  resumed  Moody,  forcing  her  hands 
from  before  her  eves  :  "  Look  up  now,  and  hear  me  out ! 
That  night  I  returned  to  the  village,  took  what  things  I 
most  valued,  and  fled ;  fled  for  my  own  safety — fled  to  lay 
my  plan  of  revenge.  I  had  been  struck, — a  blow ! — 
heavens! — a  blow! — by  him — your  father — and  I  wanted 
revenge.  Whither  should  I  seek  safety  but  among  the 
Indians — among  the  foes  of  my  race  !  I  knew  if  I  came 
peaceably  among  them,  and  offered  to  join  them,  I  should 
be  accepted.  Two  years  before  I  had  been  a  captive  among 
the  Shawanoes,  long  enough  to  understand  in  part  their 
language,  and  got  my  liberty  through  the  influence  of  the 
Necromancer,  who  told  me  then,  unless  I  were  careful,  I 
should  come  to  some  base  end.  But  he's  a  fool !  Yf  hat 
does  he  know  about  me  or  my  destiny  ? 

"  I  fled,  I  say,  toward  an  Indian  settlement ;  but  ere  I 
reached  one,  I  fell  in  with  a  scouting  party  of  Piquas.  I 
showed  them  the  open  hand,  told  them  my  story,  and  they 
adopted  me.  I  was  taken  home  to  their  village — went 
through  the  Indian  ceremony — was  shaved,  painted,  and 
dressed  in  skins — and  was,  in  short,  made  one  of  them. 

"Then  I  told  them  I  wanted  one  trusty  warrior,  and  only 
one,  to  go  with  me  on  the  war  path — that  I  had  a  chief  to 
kill  among  the  pale  faces,  to  prove  my  courage  and  fealty. 
They  consented  that  I  should  go,  but  said  I  must  go  alone. 

"  But  why  am  I  detailing  ?  Enough  !  I  went.  I  soon 
reached  your  dwelling,  and  prowled  about  the  vicinity  for 
several  days,  before  the  opportunity  I  sought  presented 
itself.  It  came  at  last.  I  saw  your  father  and  his  serving 
man  set  out  upon  a  hunt.  I  lauirhed  and  do£^o;ed  their 
footsteps.  They  killed  a  deer,  and  your  father  thought  to 
bear  it  home,  while  the  other  set  off  for  another.  I  laucrhed 
again,  for  I  saw  my  hour  of  vengeance  was  at  hand.  He 
put  the  deer  on  his  back,  but  soon  grew  weary  with  hia 


136  KATE    CLARENDON. 

burthen,  and  paused  under  a  tree  to  rest.     I  crept  up 

behind  him — and Fool !  why  do  you  tremble  so  ?     You 

have  seen  it  all  once,  and  now  you  are  only  hearing  of  it." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake !  do  not,  do  not  tell  me  more !" 
cried  Kate,  imploringly. 

"  Oh,  hear  it  out,  my  dear ;  it  will  do  you  good,  and 
prepare  you  for  what  is  to  come,"  sneered  Moody,  "I  crept 
up  behind  him,  I  say — and  he  was  sitting  so  cozily,  too, 
under  that  tree,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  face,  and 
murmuring  something  about  his  wife  and  daughter — and 

plunged  my  knife  into  his  breast,  and Ton  my  word,  I 

believe  she  has  fainted !"  added  Moody,  changing  suddenly 
from  his  narrative  to  a  soliloquy,  as  he  perceived  Kate  sink 
down  upon  the  rock  at  his  feet. 

Hastily  raising  her  in  his  arms,  he  now  bore  her  to  the 
water.  There  was  a  slight  hollow  in  the  rock  here  ;  and 
scooping  the  water  up  in  his  hand,  he  dashed  it  in  her  face, 
until  she  revived ;  when,  like  the  inquisitors  of  old,  he 
again  proceeded  with  the  torture. 

"I  knew  the  wounds  were  mortal;  and  so,  after  affixing 
my  mark,  I  left  him  ;  and,  climbing  a  tree,  stationed  my- 
self where  I  could  see  the  result.  The  result  of  course 
you  know,  and  so  I  shall  not  detail  it. 

"  Well,  I  returned  to  my  dusky  brethren  and  told  my 
tale.  They  listened  gravely,  and  asked  me  for  the  scalp 
of  my  white  foe.  This  I  had  forgotten ;  and  they  laughed 
at  me,  and  told  me  I  had  killed  a  deer,  and  thought  it  a 
warrior  in  disguise.  I  felt  chagrined,  and  told  them  I 
w^ould  prove  myself  what  I  pretended  to  be.  I  went  forth 
again  alone,  and  returned  with  two  white  scalps.  Then 
they  seemed  greatly  pleased,  and  made  me  a  sort  of  chief, 
and  gave  me  command  of  a  scouting  party. 

*'  Now  it  was,  I  felt  my  design  would  at  last  be  gained, 
and  you  be  in  my  power.     To  this  end  all  my  thoughts 


11 


THE    RENEGADE    AND   HIS   CAPTIYE.  137 

were  bent ;  and  this  your  presence  here  tells  I  have  ac- 
complished. 

"  One  night,  while  stealing  around  your  dwelling,  I  saw 
you  and  your  lover  issue  forth  together,  and  I  kept  you 
both  in  sight.  You  paused  on  the  river's  bank,  and  sighed 
to  each  other  your  love-sick  tales.  Heavens  !  how  my  blood 
boiled  to  crush  you  both  together  ;  but  prudence  restrained 
me.  I  listened  to  your  soft  words  until  I  became  tired  and 
disgusted. 

*'  At  last  they  came  to  an  end,  and  I  heard  the  day  set 
for  your  marriage.  Then  my  plan  was  laid ;  I  would  be 
there  with  my  painted  friends ;  and  in  the  height  of  your 
enjoyment,  would  make  the  scene  a  scene  of  wailing  and 
woe.  You  I  sought  for  my  victim,  and  you  I  found  in 
your  mother's  arms.  It  was  your  last  embrace — for  she  is 
now " 

"Where  you  will  never  be,"  interrupted  Kate,  impress- 
ively— "in  Heaven!"  Then  clasping  her  hands  together, 
she  looked  upward,  and  bursting  into  tears,  cried  :  "  Alas  ! 
my  poor,  dear  mother  !  thou  art  indeed  gone  !  God  rest 
thy  soul !  But  thou  art  in  Heaven ;  and,  oh !  that  I  were 
with  thee — dear,  dear,  sainted  mother  !" 

"  I  seized  and  bore  you  hence,"  continued  Moody,  with- 
out appearing  to  heed  the  interruption  of  the  other;  "  and 
as  the  first  ray  of  light  streaked  the  eastern  heavens  this 
morning,  I  placed  you  here,  whence  you  cannot  depart  until 
I  will  you  so  to  do.  Nay,  do  not  shrink  away !  for  now  I 
tell  you  plainly,  you  are  in  my  power,  and  beyond  the  reach 
of  aid.  Save  my  warriors,  there  is  not  a  living  soul,  be- 
sides ourselves,  that  knows  there  is  such  a  place  in  existence ; 
and  they  have  yielded  you  up  to  me,  and  will  not  betray 
jnj  secret.  I  have  just  returned  from  their  council  fires, 
with  their  full  consent  to  do  with  you  whatsoever  I  please- 
Now  you  know  the  story." 

12* 


138  KATE    CLARENDON. 

"And  what  do  you  propose  to  do?"  asked  Kate,  in 
trembling  tones. 

"  Do  ? — ha,  ha  ! — why,  marry  you  without  a  priest," 
rejoined  Moody,  tauntingly.  '^  I  would  not  kill  you,  for 
that  would  be  but  slight  revenge." 

"  Great  Heaven !  you  do  not,  cannot  mean  this  !"  almost 
shrieked  Kate,  endeavoring  to  rush  past  him  to  the  mouth 
of  the  cave. 

"  Nay,"  cried  Moody,  seizing  hold  of  her  roughly — "  not 
so  fast." 

"  Oh  !  let  me  go  ! — in  Heaven's  name,  let  me  go  !  and  I 
will  forgive  you  all  that  is  past." 

"Forgive? — ha,  ha,  ha!  What  think  you  I  care  for 
your  forgiveness  ?  Let  you. go,  indeed  !  after  plunging  my 
soul  into  crime  to  get  you  here  !  Why,  girl,  are  you  mad, 
to  talk  thus  ?" 

"  Then  kill  me  !"  cried  Kate,  wildly.  "  Murder  me,  as 
you  have  murdered  my  parents  !  I  would  rather  die  than 
be  dishonored." 

"And  that  is  the  very  reason  why  I  let  you  live,"  re- 
turned Moody,  with  a  dark,  vindictive  smile.  "No,  no, 
Kate  Clarendon — haughty,  coquetting  Kate — live  to  return 
to  your  lover." 

"  No  !  if  I  am  disgraced,  I  never  will  return  alive  !"  re- 
joined the  fair  girl,  solemnly  and  firmly. 

"  Settle  that  matter  with  yourself,  then,"  said  Moody, 
coldly.     "  Mine  j^ou  shall  be,  living  or  dead  !" 

As  he  spoke,  the  villain  threw  his  arms  boldly  around 
the  other  ;  and,  in  spite  of  her  struggles,  pressed  her  to  his 
loathsome  breast ;  while  the  torch  slipped  from  his  hand, 
fell  to  the  ground,  and  nearly  became  extinguished  by  the 
fall — casting  dark,  flitting  shadows  over  the  gloomy  cavern. 
For  some  time  Kate  struggled  violently,  and  uttered  one 
or  two  piercing  screams ;  then  she  suddenly  became  still. 


THE   RENEGADE    AXD    IIIS    CAPTIYE.  139 

as  though  she  thought  it  were  vain  to  longer  contend  with 
her  evident  destiny.  Moodv,  surprised  at  her  sudden 
quietude,  drew  back  to  learn  the  cause  ;  when  the  click  of 
a  pistol,  with  the  muzzle  pointed  at  his  heart,  warned  him, 
too  late,  of  his  own  imprudence.  Kate  had  disengaged  it 
from  his  belt  during  the  scuffle ;  and  now  stood  before  him, 
erect,  with  flashing  eyes  and  disheveled  hair,  which  came 
streaming  down  around  her  pale  features,  whereon  was  an 
expression  of  deep  resolve,  not  to  be  mistaken. 

As  Moody's  dark,  malignant  eye  met  hers,  it  involunta- 
rily quailed  before  that  sublime  gaze  of  wronged  innocence. 

"  Villain  !  beware  !"  cried  Kate,  in  a  lofty  tone.  "  Move 
but  a  single  step  toward  me,  and  your  soul  is  with  its  God." 

"Forbear!"  cried  the  cowardly  wretch,  in  a  deprecating 
tone,  fearful  that  she  might  be  tempted  to  pull  the  trigger, 
on  which  her  delicate  finger  seemed  to  rest  heavily.  "  For- 
bear, ^liss  Clarendon,  and  you  shall  go  free." 

''  Swear  it  I"  said  Kate,  solemnly  and  loftily. 

"  By  everything  that  yields  me  an  existence — by  my 
hopes  of  salvation — I  swear  it!"  returned  Moody. 

"  See  that  you  break  not  your  oath  !"  rejoined  Kate,  re- 
treating backward,  and  still  keeping  the  pistol  elevated  in 
the  same  position.  "  Stand  where  you  are,  Hashton 
Moody !  advance  a  single  step,  and  I  fire." 

Whether  it  was  that  Moody  was  afraid  of  being  deprived 
of  his  own  worthless  life — or  whether,  as  is  more  probable, 
he  thought,  by  remaining  stationary,  something  mi,crht 
chance  to  his  advantao;e  in  disarmino^  his  fair  foe — we  do 
not  pretend  to  say ;  but  certain  it  is,  he  remained  fixed  as 
a  pillar ;  while  Kate  retreated,  until  some  fifteen  yards  di- 
vided them ;  when,  unguarded  as  to  her  course,  with  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  other,  she  stepped  upon  a  spot  made 
slippery  by  the  dripping  water,  and  the  next  moment  fell 
heavily  upon  the  ground.     As  she  went  down,  the  pistol 


140  KATE   CLAilEXDOX. 

flew  from  her  hand  several  feet,  struck  upon  the  rock,  and 
discharged  itself,  with  a  sound  that  ran  bellowing  to  the 
remotest  corner  of  the  cavern,  and  seemed  the  death-knell 
of  her  hopes.  The  sound  of  the  pistol  was  succeeded  by  a 
laugh  that  seemed  not  earthly ;  and  bounding  forward, 
Moody  stood  erect  over  his  prostrate  and  forlorn  captive. 

"So,  then,  I  have  you  again,  eh?"  he  cried,  exultingly. 
"  This  time  I  will  be  more  careful." 

"Remember  your  oath!"  said  Kate,  timidly,  attempting 
to  regain  her  feet. 

"  Oath  be !"  shouted  Moody,  with  another  frightful 

laugh  ;  and  again  his  hateful  arms  were  thrown  around  the 
half-raised  and  trembling  form  of  the  lovely  but  helpless 
Kate  Clarendon.  "Down!"  he  cried,  hoarsely;  and  at 
the  word  he  forced  her  with  violence  back  upon  the  rock. 

"  God  save  me !"  screamed  Kate,  terrified  nearly  out  of 
her  senses. 

"He  can't  do  it!"  rejoined  Moody,  blasphemously,  with 
a  hellish  grin  of  savage  joy. 

"  Liar !"  shouted  a  strange  voice,  that  made  him  start 
in  terror,  and  Kate  scream  with  joy,  as  a  bright  light 
flashed  in  his  face,  and  revealed  to  his  astonished  eyes  the 
ungainly,  and  to  him  terrible,  form  of  the  Necromancer, 
standing  by  his  side,  torch  in  hand,  and  looking  downward 
upon  him  with  an  awful  scowl,  his  jaws  working  almost  con- 
vulsively, and  his  eyelid  quivering  like  the  leaf  of  the  aspen ; 
"while  several  dim  forms  were  seen  hurrying  toward  him 
from  the  mouth  of  the  cave ;  and  voices,  portending  sum- 
mary punishment,  came  to  his  frightened  ears,  through  the 
arches  of  the  great  cavern,  in  hollow  and  unearthly  tones, 
making  his  polluted  soul  almost  shrink  from  its  frail  and 
much  abused  tenement  of  clay. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 


THE   NECROMANCER   AGAIN. 


And  when  they  talk  of  him,  they  shake  their  heada, 

And  whisper  one  another  in  the  car; 

And  he  that  speaks  doth  gripe  the  hearer's  wrist, 

And  he  that  hears  makes  fearful  action, 

With  wrinkled  brow,  with  nods,  with  rolling  eyes. — Shakspeaek, 

"VYe  left  Egbert  Stanley  and  his  companions,  headed,  or 
rather  led,  by  David  Grant,  in  pursuit  of  the  Indians — and 
to  them  we  must  nonreturn.  For  some  eight  or  ten  miles, 
they  pursued  their  course  up  the  Miami  in  silence,  with  no 
event  occurring  worth  being  recorded.  By  this  time  the 
mist,  which  we  saw  rising  on  their  departure,  had  rolled 
itself  across  the  plain,  and  enveloped  them  in  a  cloud  so 
dense,  that  not  a  single  object  about  them  was  visible. 
Still  the  scout,  who  had  traveled  the  ground  frequently, 
moved  onward,  and  the  others,  as  best  they  could,  followed 
the  sound  of  his  footsteps. 

At  length  Egbert,  who  was  next  to  David,  struck  his 
foot  against  the  half-decayed  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree,  and 
fell  over  it — whereupon  the  whole  party  came  to  a  halt. 

*'  It  is  useless  to  attempt  further  progress  to-night,"  said 
the  young  officer,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet ;  "  for  nothing  can 
be  seen,  and  danger  may  be  in  every  step  we  take." 

"  As  you  like,  Lieutenant,"  returned  the  scout.  "  Fool- 
isher  advice  might  be  spoke ;  though  I'm  not  afeard  to  lead, 
if  you  aren't  to  follow." 

"  But  what  good  can  come  of  it  ?"  asked  Stanley.  "  We 
might  come  upon  the  camp  of  the  enemy  before  we  were 
aware  of  it." 

(141)       . 


142  KATE   CLARENDON" 


"  Nothing  truer — though  I  reckon  we'd  stand  as  good  a 
chance  as  thej,"  rejoined  David. 

"What  say  you,  Danvers  ?"  inquired  Egbert.  "Shall 
we  go  further  or  not  ?'* 

"  I  would  rather  see  the  path  I  am  following,"  answered 
the  one  addressed. 

"  So  would  I.  Let  us  camp,  then,  where  we  are,  and 
take  daylight  for  it." 

"Any  body  see  a  light?"  inquired  David,  suddenly. 

Each  looked  about  him,  and  several  answered,  "  No  !" 

"  There's  a  sort  o'  dim  spot  away  to  the  right,  or  my 
eyes  make  it,"  said  the  gardener. 

"  Your  eyes  don't  make  it,  and  that  spot's  fire,"  returned 
the  scout,  laconically. 

"  Ha  !  now  I  see  it !"  exclaimed  Stanley,  while  his  heart 
beat  quickly,  with  the  hope  that  his  beloved  was  near  him. 
"  It  must  be  the  camp-fire  of  the  savages." 

"Maybe,"  returned  the  scout,  "though  I  reckon  not. 
But  silence,  and  let  us  diskiver." 

Saying  this,  he  moved  slowly  and  softly  forward,  care- 
fully feeling  his  way  as  he  went,  followed  by  the  others  in 
the  same  manner.  In  a  few  minutes  they  reached  the 
Miami,  and,  as  its  water  was  now  in  a  moderate  stage, 
crossed  it  without  difficulty.  As  they  neared  the  spot 
which  had  attracted  their  attention,  the  pale,  faint  hue,  as 
first  seen,  assumed  a  deeper  and  redder  tinge,  and  con- 
vinced all  that  the  remark  of  the  scout  was  correct.  As- 
cending the  opposite  bank  of  the  Miami,  they  kept  on  their 
course  some  dozen  or  so  of  yards,  when  they  came  to  a 
steep  ascent,  and  saw  the  light  but  a  short  distance-above 
them. 

"Stand  here,  with  rifles  ready,  and  move  not  hand  nor 
foot,  while  I  go  for'ard  first  to  make  it  out,"  whispered 
David ;  and  without  more  ado,  and  not  even  waiting  a  re- 


THE    NECROMAXCER   AGAIX.  143 

ply,  lie  turned  aside  from  the  straight  line,  and  glided 
away,  noiselessly  as  a  spirit  or  an  Indian. 

Some  ten  minutes  of  breathless  suspense  elapsed,  during 
^vhich  each  of  the  party  behind  grasped  his  rifle  tightly, 
and  listened  eagerly  for  the  slightest  sound  to  decide  his 
next  movement.  All  was  fearfully  silent ;  for  silence  is 
fearful,  when  we  look  for  the  first  sound  to  be  one  of  dan- 
ger, calculated  to  drive  the  blood  back  to  the  heart — as 
when  two  armies,  facing  each  other,  are  quietly  preparing 
the  first  terrible  volley  of  death — and  each  stood  fast,  mo- 
tionless as  marble,  and  seemed  to  feel  his  hair  fairly  rising 
with  excitement. 

At  length  each  started,  on  hearing  the  voice  of  David 
close  at  hand ;  for  not  a  sound  of  his  approach  had  been 
audible. 

"Follow,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  ''and  I'll  show  you  a 
curious  sight." 

Obeying  him  in  silence,  each  set  forward  up  the  ascent, 
and  presently  gained  the  spot  whence  the  light  proceeded. 
Upon  a  broad,  flat  rock,  scarcely  elevated  above  the  ground, 
was  a  small,  bright  fire,  made  of  dry  sticks ;  by  the  side  of 
which,  with  his  feet  partly  drawn  under  him,  a  bible  in  his 
hand,  on  which  his  eyes  were  intently  fixed ;  his  long  hair, 
unrestrained,  flowing  freely  down  the  sides  of  his  coarse, 
rough  features,  and  over  his  shoulders ;  and  swaying  back- 
ward and  forward,  as  one  engaged  in  profound  study — sat 
Blind  Luther,  the  Necromancer ;  on  whom  each  of  the  party 
gazed,  if  not  with  a  feeling  of  superstition,  at  least  with 
something  very  much  akin  to  it.  And  indeed  the  picture, 
considering  the  principal  figure  and  the  mystery  connected 
with  him,  was  well  calculated  to  produce  this  eftect.  The 
light  of  the  flame,  formed  a  bright  circle  in  the  dense  fog, 
threw  the  dark  form  of  Luther  into  bold  relief,  and  lent  a 
ruddy  tin^e  to  his  harsh,  but  benevolent  features — giving 


144  KATE   CLARENDON. 

them,  at  the  some  time,  an  appearance  of  rapid  change  in 
expression,  bj  its  flickering  shadows. 

For  a  moment  or  two,  Luther  sat  in  silence — while  si- 
lently our  party  gazed  upon  him — and  then  his  voice  wa3 
heard  reading  from  the  book  in  his  hand : 

*''Wounto  the  wicked  ! — it  shall  be  ill  with  him;  for 
the  reward  of  his  hands  shall  be  given  him.' 

"Even  so,"  he  continued,  closing  the  book:  "Even  so 
shall  it  be :  therefore  let  them  that  are  evil  doers  take  heed 
unto  their  ways." 

He  ceased,  and  bowed  his  head  upon  his  hands. 

*'  We  meet  strangely  again,"  said  Stanley,  stepping  for- 
ward into  the  circle  of  light,  and  tapping  the  shoulder  of 
Luther  with  his  hand. 

Luther  raised  his  head,  without  any  apparent  surprise ; 
and  frankly  extending  his  large,  dark  hand  to  the  other, 
replied : 

"  I  am  glad  to  behold  thee,  young  man,  safe  where  thou 
art;  for  a  narrow  chance  hast  thou  had,  in  thy  morning  of 
life,  of  escaping  that  yawning  gulf  which  awaits  us  all.  I 
said,  you  remember,  we  should  meet  again, 

"  "When  dark  storms  should  round  us  lower, 
Or  bright  sunshine  ruled  the  hour. 

"We  meet,  however,  in  the  former — in  the  stormy  hour 
of  fate — though  I  trust  thy  sun  of  life  may  not  set  behind 
a  cloud." 

"  God  send  it  may  not!"  rejoined  Stanley,  earnestly. 

"  I  perceive  you  are  wounded,"  pursued  Luther,  point- 
ing to  the  head  of  the  other :  "  I  hope  not  severely." 

"  Nothing  alarming,  I  think — though  it  does  pain  me  a 
little,"  answered  Stanley. 

"  A  narrow^  escape,  indeed  !"  rejoined  Luther.     "  It  was 


THE  necro.maxceh  agaix.  145 

a  moment  on  which  your  life  hung  suspended  by  a  thread. 
It  is  over,  and  yet  your  life  is  still  in  danger." 

"What  mean  you?"  asked  our  hero  in  some  surprise. 

"  God  is  great,"  replied  the  Necromancer,  solemnly, 
"  and  orders  all  things  for  the  best.  When  He  made  the 
stupendous  work  of  creation,  and  set  the  great  wheels  in 
motion,  He  made  laws  to  govern  each  and  every  part ;  and 
unto  man  He  gave  the  power  of  understanding  those  laws, 
to  the  benefit  of  himself  and  the  glorification  of  his  Maker. 
Wherefore,  man  telleth  the  time  of  the  seasons,  and  looketh 
for  heat  and  for  cold,  and  knoweth  the  motion  of  the  planets, 
the  moments  of  their  revolving,  and  the  years  of  their  cycle  ; 
and  the  laws  which  extend  to  them,  do  also  unto  all  created 
things ;  so  that  the  pebble  which  rolls  on  the  beach  by  the 
wash  of  the  tide,  and  the  volcano  which  belcheth  fire  and 
causeth  earth  to  groan  in  her  bowels,  are  alike  governed  by. 
the  fixed  and  eternal  laws  of  the  universe  :  therefore,  let  not 
thy  too  hastily  formed  prejudice  condemn  the  truth,  that 
the  being  and  deeds  of  man  are  overruled  by  the  same  laws, 
which  by  knowledge  he  may  read  and  understand,  but  not 
alter." 

"  If  I  comprehend  you  rightly,  you  are  alluding  to  astro- 
logy ?"  observed  Stanley,  interrogatively. 

"  Call  it  by  what  name  you  vrill,  it  is  the  tongue  of 
Heaven,  whereby  is  spoken  the  destiny  of  nations  and  in- 
dividuals. Here" — and  the  Necromancer,  thrusting  his 
hand  into  his  knapsack,  drew  forth  a  roll  of  parchment : 
"Here  is  thy  past  and  future  course,  signed  and  sealed; 
and  that  of  her  thou  lovest  best;  and  that  of  him  thou 
hatest  most." 

"  Oh,  speak,  for  mercy's  sake  !  if  you  know  aught,  and 
tell  me  what  of  her  !"  cried  Egbert,  vehemently. 

"  She  is  safe  for  the  present." 

"  Heaven  be  praised  !    Can  you  lead  me  to  her  V* 
10  13 


146  KATE   CLAREXDON. 

"I  can — but  not  to-night." 

"  Oh,  jes — to-night — delay  not  a  moment !" 

"  Bj  this  time  the  party  without,  eager  to  catch  every 
look  and  tone,  had  leaned  their  heads  forward  into  the  cir- 
cle of  light — their  bodies  remaining  concealed  entirely,  or 
showing  only  a  faint  outline — which  gave  them  the  superna- 
tural appearance  of  spectres,  of  spirits,  peering  through  a. 
cloud,  as  we  sometimes  see  them  represented  on  canvas. 
Without  making  a  direct  reply,  Luther  pointed  around  the 
circle,  and  observed : 

""VVe  are  not  alone." 

"Do  not  fear,"  said  Egbert ;  "  they  are  all  friends." 

"Fear,  Egbert  Stanley  ?  Nay  !"  and  he  raised  his  hands 
majestically  above  his  head,  and  with  his  fore-finger  pointed 
upward,  while  he  paused  a  moment,  and  then  he  said,  in 
.a  voice  of  great  and  impressive  solemnity ;  "  there  is  but 
One  to  fear — fear  Him  always,  and  Him  only  !  But  see  !" 
he  added  :  "I  told  thee  thy  destiny  was  written  here;" 
and  he  pointed  to  the  scroll  in  his  hand,  which  was  covered 
with  figures,  letters  and  characters.  "  This  is  thy  horo- 
scope— cast  many  years  ago." 

"  But  did  you  know  me  then  ?" 

"  Ay  !  before  you  knew  yourself." 

"  Heavens  !  explain  1" 

"  Not  now ;  another  time  and  place  must  serve  me.  But 
you  spoke  of  her  you  love." 

"  I  did.  Oh,  tell  me  where  to  find  her  !  and  if  she  be 
living  and  safe !" 

"  For  to-night,  she  is  safe — to-morrow  I  will  lead  thee  to 
her." 

"  Is  she  a  prisoner  ?" 

"  She  is ;  but  ask  me  no  more,  for  I  am  done.  To 
camp !  to  camp,  all !  and  be  ready  for  the  morrow,  I  will 
stand  sentinel.   Yet  stay,  Egbert,"  added  the  Necromancer, 


'P 


THE    XECROMAXCER    AGAIX.  147 

as  the  latter  turned  a^'aj ;  "  I  must  look  to  jour  TN'ound. 
You  will  find  a  suitable  spot  close  at  hand,  in  this  direc- 
tion," he  said  to  the  others,  pointing  with  his  finger  ;  and 
as  thej  departed,  he  rose,  and  removing  the  bandage  from 
the  head  of  Stanley  proceeded  to  examine  his  wound  atten- 
tively. Then  taking  a  vial  from  his  knapsack,  he  wet  the 
cloth  with  the  liquid  contained  therein,  and  rubbed  the 
wound  with  it. 

"  It  will  trouble  you  but  very  little  after  this,"  he  said, 
as  he  carefully  replaced  the  bandage.  "  And  now,  my 
young  friend,  join  your  companions,  and  get  w^hat  rest 
you  may." 

Egbert  would  fain  have  questioned  further,  relative  to 
her  he  loved ;  but  waving  his  hand  peremptorily,  Blind 
Luther  turned  his  back  upon  him,  in  a  manner  to  cut  off 
all  conversation  ;  and  thinking  it  prudent  not  to  press  the 
matter  too  much,  he  moved  away  and  joined  his  com- 
panions, who  had  already  selected  their  place  of  encamp- 
ment, and  started  a  fire  in  its  centre. 

Casting  himself  upon  the  earth,  in  a  fit  of  gloomy  ab- 
straction, our  hero  sat  some  two  or  three  hours,  watching 
the  bright  flame  as  it  eagerly  devoured  the  dry  fuel  which 
fed  it.  During  this  time,  one  after  another  of  the  party 
gradually  fell  into  slumber,  until  he  alone  remained  awake. 
Turning  his  eyes  toward  the  fire  of  Luther,  he  could  just 
perceive  the  dim  outline  of  that  mysterious  being,  seated 
upon  the  rock,  his  elbows  resting  upon  his  nether  limbs, 
his  face  upon  his  hands,  and  apparently  asleep.  Gazing 
upon  him  for  a  while — during  which  a  thousand  vague 
thoughts  and  conjectures  passed  through  his  mind,  as  to 
who  or  what  he  was ;  what  he  knew  of  his  own  history ; 
how  he  knew,  and  what  he  knew,  regarding  her  he  loved — 
he  at  last  felt  his  eyes  grow  heavy — strange  objects,  of 
which  he  was  in  chase,  flitted  before  his  mind's  vision — he 


148  KATE   CLAEENDON. 


I 


swayed  from  side  to  side — nodded  and  partly  awoke — saw 
the  light  of  the  fire  diml}'- — nodded  a  few  times  more — and 
then  all  became  dark,  indistinct,  and  confused,  and  he 
rolled  over  upon  the  earth  and  slept, 

^'  Up,  and  to  thy  journey !"  said  a  deep  voice,  that  roused 
Stanley  from  his  slumbers ;  and  springing  to  his  feet,  he 
found  Blind  Luther  and  the  rest  of  his  companions  ready 
to  depart. 

It  was  already  broad  daylight ;  though  the  sun  had  not 
yet  made  his  appearance,  owing  to  the  dense  fog  which 
still  clouded  the  earth.  There  was,  however,  a  brighter 
spot  in  the  east  than  elsewhere,  from  which  the  mist  seemed 
hurrying  rapidly,  and  rolling  and  tumbling  from  side  to 
side,  as  if  eager  to  escape  from  the  god  of  day,  Avhose  sharp, 
hot  rays  were  troubling  severely  its  outer  borders. 

^•Eat!"  said  Luther,  emphatically,  to  Egbert,  proffering 
him  some  jerk,  roots,  and  fruit,  his  own  humble  fare. 

Egbert  partook  lightly  of  the  first,  but  declined  the 
others ;  and  the  rest  having  eaten  previously,  the  party 
prepared  to  set  forward  under  the  guidance  of  Luther. 

"'Spect  I'm  no  more  needed?"  said  David  Grant,  in  a 
dissatisfied  tone ;  for  he  was  anxious  to  make  a  display  of 
his  powers  in  traiHng  the  foe. 

"You  may  as  well  keep  us  company,  at  all  events,"  said 
Stanley.  ^ 

"Your  services  may  be  needed,"  observed  Luther. 

David  made  no  reply,  and  the  party  set  forward. 

Instead  of  descending  to  the  valley,  the  Necromancer 
shaped  his  course  to  the  top  of  the  ridge,  along  which  he 
moved  in  silence  with  rapid  strides,  followed  by  the  others 
in  the  same  manner.  Here  the  fog  had  already  begun  to 
disappear;  and  presently  the  sun  broke  through,  bright 
and  glorious.  Then,  like  some  mighty  avalanche,  the  mist 
was  seen  rolling  down  toward  the  plain,  over  which  it  lay 


THE    NECROMANCER   AGAIN.  149 


like  a  white  shroud,  occasionally  diversified  and  rendered 
doubly  interesting  by  a  beautiful  bow  set  on  its  brow,  as  it 
were  a  beacon  of  hope.  Gradually  it  began  to  drive  and 
writhe  and  scatter,  under  the  influence  of  the  sun  and  the 
morning  breeze ;  and  then  first  one  tree  and  another  began 
to  show  its  leafy  top,  as  if  rising  from  a  beautiful  lake, 
until  at  last  the  whole  vapor  was  swept  away,  and  a  scene 
resplendent  in  beauty  broke  upon  the  eye. 

Stanley,  who  had  watched  it  intently  as  he  proceeded  on 
his  journey,  felt  his  spirits  revive  to  a  wonderful  degree ; 
■while  something  within  seemed  to  say : 

"Behold  in  this  a  happy  augury !  As  the  night  and  the 
morning,  so  has  thy  soul  been  shrouded  in  a  vapor  of  gloom, 
through  which  no  eye  could  penetrate  to  see  what  lay  beyond. 
As  the  mist  has  vanished  before  the  god  of  day,  so  shall 
thy  troubles  vanish  before  the  bright  star  of  thy  destiny; 
and  thy  path  shall  lead  down  to  the  grave,  smooth,  bright, 
and  unclouded." 

For  a  time  Stanley  was  buoyed  up  with  this  feeling ;  and 
then  he  became  dejected  and  sad ;  for  he  remembered  that 
she  he  loved  was  yet  a  prisoner. 

Throughout  the  day,  Blind  Luther  said  little  to  any — 
his  mind  seemingly  absorbed  by  some  gloomy  meditation. 
AVhen  questioned  as  to  his  course,  he  ever  replied  that  all 
was  right.  About  noon,  a  fine  buck  was  killed,  and  the 
party  halted  for  refreshment.  After  a  delay  of  some  two 
hours,  they  resumed  their  journey,  much  invigorated. 

Now  whether  it  was  that  Luther  had  made  a  mistake  in 
regard  to  the  exact  location  of  the  cave  where  Kate  Claren- 
don was  confined — or  whether  he  desired,  for  some  reasons 
of  his  own,  to  delay  their  arrival  to  a  given  time — does  not 
appear ;  but  certain  it  is,  that  though  the  cave  did  not  ex- 
ceed a  distance  of  twenty  miles  from  where  the  party  set 
out  in  the  morning — and  though  all  traveled  hard  through- 

13* 


150  KATE   CLARENDON. 

out  the  day,  with  the  exception  of  the  delay  spoken  cf-  — 
yet,  from  one  reason  or  another,  they  did  not  reach  their 
journey's  end  till  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  had  dis- 
appeared from  the  highest  peak  of  the  eastern  ridge. 

"  \Ye  are  here  at  last,"  said  Luther,  leaping  across  the 
chasm  to  the  platform,  over  which  Moody  had  passed  but 
a  short  time  before.  ^'Follow  me,"  he  continued,  "and 
carefully  descend,  or  you  will  descend  to  rise  no  more 
forever. 

Saying  this,  he  approached  the  side  next  the  stream; 
when  two  or  three  prolonged  screams,  seemingly  issuing 
from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  greatly  accelerated  his  move- 
ments, and  nearly  cost  some  of  his  followers  their  lives. 
Hurrying  down  the  rugged  and  perilous  path  before  him, 
Luther  soon  reached  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  where  he 
halted  a  moment  to  guide  Stanley,  who  came  next,  in  the 
proper  direction,  and  caution  him  to  look  to  his  weapons. 
He  then  set  forward  again  rapidly;  and, just  as  he  reached 
the  termination  of  the  passage,  heard  the  discharge  of  a 
pistol,  and  saw  a  dark  object  fiit  before  his  eyes,  and  pause 
over  something  white  lying  on  the  rock.  The  torch  he 
perceived  but  a  few  paces  distant ;  and  aware  of  the  value 
of  light  in  a  case  of  such  emergency,  instantly  sprung  to 
this,  and  thence  to  the  rescue  of  Kate  Clarendon,  at  a 
point  of  time  so  all  important  to  her,  as  we  have  shown  in 
the  preceding  chapter. 


f 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MORE   MYSTERY. 

Thakk  God  vre  meet  again. 

T7hat  mystery  is  this,  that  makes  mine  eyes 
Grow  full  and  large  with  wonderrnent?     In  truth 
Am  I  in  deep  amaze. — Old  Plav. 

Go  !  go  !  and  be  a  curse  '.—earth  needs  must  bring 

Forth  some;  and  none  in  damning  deeds  of  villainy 

Can  riper  get  than  thou.     Go!  go  !  I  loathe 

Thy  ?i';;l)t,  and  feel  a  nervous  itching 

In  my  fingers'  ends  to  bid  thee  stay  forever.— Ibid. 

"Liar  1"  again  shouted  Luther,  raising  his  tremendous 
frame  to  its  full  height,  and  looking  ferociously  down  upon 
Moody,  who  stood  trembling  like  a  timid  culprit  before  his 
august  judge  :  "  Liar  and  coward  !  how  durst  thou  so  blas- 
pheme, as  to  say  the  Almighty  could  not  save  yonder  dove 
from  thy  buzzard  claws  ?  Down  with  ye  to  repentance  !" 
and  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  Luther  struck  Moody  a 
blow  in  the  face,  that  started  forth  a  stream  of  blood,  and 
sent  him  reeling  backward  upon  the  rock. 

"■  Is  she  alive— is  she  safe?— great  Heaven  !  is  she  safe  ?" 
cried  the  voice  of  Stanley,  at  this  moment  coming  up, 
followed  closely  by  his  companions. 

"Egbert,"  screamed  Kate,  wildly;  and  she  attempted 
to  rise;  but  overcome  with  emotions  of  joy,  she  failed,  and 
sunk  back  upon  the  ground. 

"  Ha  !  that  voice — that  voice  !"  almost  shrieked  Stanley. 
"  My  God,  I  thank  thee  !  Kate  !  Kate  !— my  dearest, 
darling  Kate  !"  and  the  next  moment  he  was  by  her  side, 
and  his  lips  were  pressed  to  hers,  giving  the  holy  kiss  of 

(151) 


152  KATE    CLARENDON. 


love.  Kate,"  he  continued,  raising  her  up  to  a  sitting 
posture  ;  ''  Kate  !  are  you  safe  and  well  ?" 

Kate  could  not  speak  for  joy ;  but  she  nodded  in  the 
affirmative  ;  and  then  her  head  sunk  against  his  breast, 
and  she  wept  freely. 

"  The  happiest  moment  of  my  life,"  murmured  Stanley, 
pressing  her  close  to  his  heart — a  noble  and  true  heart,  that 
beat  only  for  her,  and  would  do  so  until  it  ceased  to  beat 
forever. 

The  rest  of  the  pnrty  had  by  this  time  come  up  and 
gathered  around  the  lovers  in  joyful  silence,  their  faces 
expressive  of  the  satisfaction  they  felt  on  seeing  them  meet 
again  so  happily.  Luther  stood  a  little  apart,  with  folded 
arms  and  stern  countenance,  apparently  engaged  in  deep 
thought,  of  a  nature  not  pleasing. 

"  Let  me  thank  my  deliverers,  as  well  as  you,  dear 
Egbert,"  whispered  Kate,  at  length. 

"  Ay,  do,  dearest ;  and  first,  here  !"  and  Egbert  pointed 
to  the  tall,  athletic  form  of  the  Necromancer ;  who — 
standing,  as  we  have  said,  with  folded  arms,  from  one  hand 
of  which  projected  the  burning  torch,  its  flickering  light 
casting  a  ruddy  glow  upon  his  harsh  features — seemed  the 
personification  of  some  prophet  of  old,  about  to  utter  words 
that  should  cause  a  world  to  tremble. 

As  Kate  advanced  toward  him,  he  suddenly  turned  in 
an  opposite  direction,  and  exclaimed  : 

"Beware,  villain — you  have  done  enough!" 

This  w^as  addressed  to  Moody ;  who,  having  been  left 
unnoticed  by  all  save  Luther,  had  regained  his  feet,  and 
drawn  his  knife,  preparatory  to  executing  some  diabolical 
act ;  but  the  words  and  manner  of  Luther  arrested  and 
caused  him  to  shrink  back  in  dismay. 

"By  heavens!"  cried  Egbert,  springing  forward,  "in 
the  excess  of  my  joy,  I  had  forgotten  there  was  a  renegade 


MORE   MYSTERY.  153 


villain  to  punish ;"  and  drawing  his  sword,  he  was  rushing 
upon  his  antagonist,  when  Luther  grasped  him  by  the  arm, 
and  exclaimed : 

*'  Hold,  Egbert,  it  is  not  for  thee.  'Vengeance  is  mine, 
Baith  the  Lord,  and  I  will  repay.'  " 

*'It's  for  me,  then,"  cried  Ichabod,  who  had  been  wait- 
ing an  opportunity  to  greet  his  pet,  and  who  now  remem- 
bered his  words  to  Stanley,  on  the  death  of  Clarendon  : 
*'  It's  for  me ;  for  I  have  sworn  to  kill  him  whenever  I 
found  him ;"  and  before  any  one  could  interfere,  he  bounded 
toward  Moody ;  who,  sullen  and  ferocious,  as  a  wild  beast 
at  bay,  now  turned  upon  him  a  look  of  scorn,  as  if  he 
considered  him  beneath  his  notice. 

lie  had,  however,  mistaken  the  character  of  Ichabod 
entirely,  as  he  soon  found  to  his  cost;  for  the  next  moment 
a  bright  light  flashed  in  his  eyes,  and  the  crack  of  a  pistol 
was  heard  echoing  through  the  cavern. 

"  Ah  !  I  am  shot !"  exclaimed  Moody,  gnashing  his  teeth 
in  fury,  and  placing  his  hand  to  his  shoulder,  from  which 
a  stream  of  blood  could  now  be  seen  trickling  down  over 
his  garments.  "But  I  yet  live  to  be  revenged,"  he  cried ; 
and  at  the  same  moment  he  made  a  step  forward,  and  drew 
from  his  belt  his  undischarged  pistol. 

Before  he  could  use  it,  however,  the  hand  of  Luther  was 
upon  his  throat,  and  the  pistol^wrenched  from  his  hand  and 
sent  bounding  upon  the  rock  to  the  furthermost  part  of  the 
cave.  His  knife  and  tomahawk  shared  the  same  fate ;  and 
Moody  stood  trembling  and  unarmed,  while  the  rest  looked 
on  in  silence. 

''Wretch!"  cried  Luther,  raising  himself  to  his  full 
height,  and  casting  upon  Moody  a  look  of  scorn  :  "  Wretch ! 
I  am  tempted  to  crush  thee  where  thou  standest,  for  thy 
villainy  and  blasphemy ;  but  I  spare  thee  now,  and  now 
only.     Remember — remember  !" 


154  KATE    CLARENDON. 

*'  Nay,"  interposed  Stanley,  "  why  spare  him  for  other 
deeds  of  villainy  ?     Is  not  his  base  life  already  forfeited!" 

"Egbert  Stanley,  methinks  I  have  rendered  thee  and 
thine  some  service,"  answered  Luther. 

*'  You  have — you  have,  sir, — beyond  our  power  to  re- 
pay!" returned  Stanley. 

"  Then  perhaps  I  am  not  wrong  in  asking  a  boon  ?" 

"  Anything  in  my  power  to  grant,  or  that  of  my  com- 
rades, I  pledge  you  my  honor  you  shall  have." 

"Enough!  'tis  here;"  and  Luther  tapped  Moody  on 
the  shoulder.  "  I  ask  his  life,  to  do  with  him  as  I  may 
Bee  proper." 

"What  say  you,  comrades  ?"  inquired  Stanley,  appealing 
to  the  others. 

There  was  some  demurring ;  but  all  at  length  consented 
to  the  request  of  Luther.  Then  turning  to  Moody,  the 
latter  said : 

"Villain,  bewaro,  nor  further  go, 
Or  thine  shall  be  a  doom  of  woe ! 
From  all  thy  former  thoughts  relent, 
For  all  thy  deeds,  bow  down,  repent, 
And  show  all  hero  a  contrite  heart. 
Or  thou  and  I  must  ever  part: 
And  should  I  leave  thee,  thou  shalt  feel 
Death  and  the  Fates  have  set  their  seal." 

"  I  await  thy  answer,"  added  Luther,  in  conclusion. 

"  Set  me  free,  is  ail  I  ask,"  growled  Moody. 

"  And  thou  wilt  seek  my  aid  no  more  !"  returned  Luther. 

"  I  never  did  seek  it,"  grumbled  Moody ;  "  and  once 
free  again,  I  will  ask  no  odds  of  any." 

*' Be  it  so!"  rejoined  Luther,  musingly.  "Yet  stay!" 
be  added,  laying  hold  of  Moody,  as  he  turned  to  depart. 
"I  am  ever  loath  to  yield  up  human  nature  to  the  foul  fiend 
— the  arch  enemy  of  mankind.  One  trial  more,  and  per- 
haps thou  wilt  repent  and  be  reclaimed — if  not,  farewell 
forever  I" 


yORE    MYSTEHY.  l^'^ 


Then  pausing  a  few  moments,  as  if  to  collect  his  thoughts, 
he  resumed,  in  a  grave  voice : 

«  A  stream  there  was,  Tvbich  long  had  rolled 
Its  waters  over  sands  of  gold, 
And  in  the  sportive  sunbeams  played, 
And  wantoned  in  the  pleasant  shade— 
Ap,  fall  of  active  life  and  glee, 
It  bent  its  course  toward  the  sea. 
At  length  the  stream  received  a  shock; 
Its  waters  parted  on  a  rock  ; 
And  so  divided  there,  by  force, 
Each  arm  sought  out  another  course  ; 
And  miles  they  ran  o'er  sterile  ground, 
Ere  either  branch  the  other  fuund  j 
At  last  they  met.  yet  little  knew 
That  from  the  self-same  source  they  grew. 

*'The  Stream,"  continued  the  Necromancer,  looking 
alternately  at  Moody  and  Stanley,  and  addressing  himself 
to  both,  "is  typical  of  your  ancestors;  the  rock  is  a  quar- 
rcl  by  which  they  became  estranged-the  meeting  of  the 
.v-a'ters,  the  meeting  of  the  brothers,  the  last  of  a  noble 

jne. 
*'  Good  Heavens !"  exclaimed  Stanley,  as  some  strange 

tlioughts  flashed  through  his  mind ;  "  what  do  these  words 

import?"  ,r     T  X    • 

"  That  Egbert  Stanley  and  Rashton  Moody  are  twm 

brothers."  . 

''  'Tis  false  !"  cried  Moody.    "  This  is  some  trick— some 

device  1"  ,  ,,      X         A 

-  The  proof  is  under  the  left  arm  of  each,    returned 

Luther,  quietly.     "  Look  there,  and  you  will  find  my  words 

have  not  been  lies." 

An  examination  was  instantly  made,  and  the  result  veri- 
fied the  words  of  Luther ;  for  under  the  left  arm  of  each 
was  found,  faintly  traced  in  blue  lines,  a  coat  of  arms; 
which,  being  compared  one  with  the  other,  proved  to  be 
exactly  alike.     A  murmur  of  surprise   and  astomshment 


156  KATE    CLAREXDON. 


now  ran  around  the  excited  group,  while  Kate  dasped  hex 
hands  together  in  a  kind  of  dreamy  bewilderment. 

"This  is  very  strange — very  strange!"  said  Stanley, 
fixing  his  eyes  steadily  upon  Luther.  "  And  pray,  sir, 
who  are  you?" 

"  A  man  that  is  born  of  woman,  whose  days  are  short 
and  full  of  trouble,"  answered  Luther,  waving  his  hand  in 
his  usually  majestic  manner,  and  turning  his  eyes  from 
Stanley  to  Moody,  who  stood  grating  his  teeth,  with  an 
angry  frown  upon  his  brow. 

"  And  so  he  is  my  brother,  then  ?"  pursued  Egbert, 
musingly,  turning  also  toward  ]Moody. 

" Brother  be !"  roared  Moody.     "If  I  am,  I'll  live 

to  triumph  over  you  yet,  Mr.  Stanley." 

"Nay,"  interposed  Luther,  sternly,  approaching  and  ]  t» 
laying  his  hand  upon  Moody  :  "  Nay,  be  not  too  fast !  I  was 
wrong  to  think  that  he  who  could  so  act  the  villain  and  mis- 
creant, had  any  right  to  the  ties  of  kindred  and  home.  His 
sentence  rests  with  me,  does  it  not  ?"  he  added,  appealing 
to  the  rest. 

"It  does — it  does,"  cried  all. 

"Hear  me  then !"  rejoined  Luther,  raising  his  hands  in 
a  menacing  attitude.  "'As  ye  sow,  so  shall  ye  reap.'  I 
banish  thee,  Albert  Bellington — alias  Rashton  Moody — 
forever  from  among  the  race  of  civilized  men.  I  curse  and 
send  thee  forth,  a  murderer  upon  the  face  of  the  earth — a 
companion  for  the  savage  and  wild  beast — never  to  hear 
the  sweet  voice  of  sympathy  more !  All  trace  that  thou 
wast  nobly  born  is  hereby  removed." 

As  Luther  spoke,  he  took  from  his  knapsack  some  thongs 
of  deer-skin,  and,  in  spite  of  the  resistance  of  Moody,  bound 
him  fast,  hand  and  foot.  Then  casting  him  upon  his  side, 
he  drew  his  knife,  and  deliberately  cut  the  tattooed  skin 
from  under  his  arm. 


MORE    MYSTERY. 


•I  Kn 


"Now  go!"  he  cried,  releasing  him:  "Go!  be  a  mur- 
derer and  mendicant  upon  the  face  of  the  earth ;  and  let 
the  knowledge  of  thy  crimes,  of  what  thou  hast  lost,  and 
thy  guilty  conscience,  be  thy  punishment !  Cross  never 
my  path  again— or  I  will  deliver  thee  up  to  justice.  Fare- 
well!  Farewell!  Henceforth  I  know  thee  no  more— no 
more !"  and  waving  his  hand,  he  turned  away  his  face,  as 
if  to  shut  the  other  from  his  sight. 

For  a  moment  Moody  stood  like  a  goaded  tiger,  gnash- 
ing his  teeth  in  fury;  then  muttering,  "  I  will  yet  be  re- 
venged !"  he  darted  swiftly  away. 

"  He  will  trouble  us  again,  I  fear,"  said  Danvers. 

"Then  the  consequences  rest  with  himself,"  rejoined 
Luther.  "  I  have  done,  and  shall  not  interfere  again  be- 
tween him  and  justice." 

"Who  are  you,  mysterious  being?"  exclaimed  Egbert, 
approaching  Luther  ;  "  and  whence  come  you  ?     I  am  all 

amazement." 

Luther  drew  his  tall,  ungainly  person  up  to  its  full  height, 
and,  quietly  folding  his  arms  upon  his  breast,  replied : 

"Go  and  ask  the  stars  above, 
"Why  their  hours  are  meet  for  love — 
Go  and  ask  the  moon  so  bright, 
"Why  she  silvers  o'er  the  night — 
Go  and  ask  the  sun  on  high, 
Why  his  glories  fill  the  sky — 
If  they  answer,  so  will  I. 

"  Like  vain,  presumptuous  mortals,"  continued  Luther, 
"  you  seek  to  know  too  much. 

"Who  I  am,  or  whence  I  came, 
What  my  purpose,  or  my  name, 
Matters  are  which  Fates  have  sealed, 
Not  by  me'  to  be  revealed.^ 
AVhen  the  eighth  moon  is  in  wane. 
And  the  earth  is  green  again. 
If  among  the  living  then, 
Thou  shalt  happiest  be  of  men — 
Thou  shalt  clasp  her  by  thy  side. 
Truly  thine,  thy  wedded  bride ; 
Then,  I  charge  thee,  not  before, 
Open  this  :  thou  shalt  know  more  !" 

14 


158  KATE    CLAREXDOX. 


As  he  concluded,  Luther  placed  in  the  hands  of  E^rbert 
a  small  silver  box,  on  which  were  wrouo:ht  some  stranfe 
characters. 

"  This  is  all  very  mysterious,"  said  Stanley,  gazing  first 
at  the  box,  and  then  at  the  donor.  "  I  cannot  compre- 
hend it." 

**It  is  like  a  beautiful  dream,"  whispered  Kate,  stealing 
lip  to  the  side  of  Egbert,  and  laying  her  soft,  white  hand 

on  his  arm,  with  a  look  of  affection.     "It  is " 

She  was  about  to  continue  her  remarks,  but  stopped  sud- 
denly, uttered  a  frightful  scream,  and  threw  herself  in  front 
of  Egbert,  as  if  to  shield  him  from  danger. 

Each  started,  and  looked  for  the  cause  of  her  alarm ; 
when  crack  went  a  pistol  just  in  front  of  Stanley,  the  ball 
of  which  slightly  grazed 'his  cheek. 

"Perdition  seize  ye  !"  cried  the  voice  of  Moody,  hoarse 
w^ith  passion  ;  and  at  the  same  moment  his  form  w^as  seen 
disappearing  through  the  narrow  passage  leading  out  of 
the  cave. 

On  his  former  retreat,  he  had  found  the  pistol  discharged 
by  Kate,  had  loaded  it,  and  returned  to  take  his  last  re- 
venge. 

"  I  'spected  as  much,"  said  Ichabod,  snatching  up  a  rifle. 
"If  I  failed  afore,  it's  no  sign  I  will  this  time;"  and  he 
darted  away  in  pursuit  of  Moody,  followed  by  most  of  the 
others,  Stanley  himself  remaining  by  the  side  of  Kate. 

A  short  silence  succeeded  the  tramping  of  feet  on  the 
floor  of  the  cavern,  and  then  came  the  report  of  a  rifle. 
Presently  Danvers  joined  the  party  in  the  cave. 

"  Well  y"  said  Stanley,  addressing  him  as  he  entered. 

"He  will  never  trouble  us  again,  I  think,"  answered 
Danvers. 

"  Is  he  dead  ?"  asked  Egbert,  gravely. 

"  It  is  hard  to  say ;  but  hear  and  judge  for  yourself. 


MORE   MYSTERY.  159 


He  had  just  reached  the  rock  arching  the  stream,  and  was 
turning  to  ascend  the  rocky  bank,  when  Ichabod,  with  a 
hasty  aim,  fired.  For  a  moment  Moody  paused,  balanced 
in  the  air,  and  then,  with  a  horrible  yell,  disappeared  over 
the  verge  of  the  abyss.  A  dull,  hollow  sound  came  up 
from  below,  and  then  all  was  still." 

A  brief  silence  succeeded  this  announcement;  when  Eg- 
bert  said,  solemnly : 

"  So  perish  the  wicked." 
Amen!"  responded  a  deep,  heavy  voice,  that  seemed 
to  descend  from  the  ceiling  of  the  cave. 

Stanley  and  his  companions  started,  and  looked  upward, 
but  saw  nothing  save  the  bare  rock. 

"Why,  where  is  Luther?"  exclaimed  Kate,  at  this  mo- 
ment, looking  round  her  in  astonishment. 

"Heavens!  he  has  disappeared  again!"  rejoined  Stan- 
ley, pointing  to  the  burning  torch,  one  end  of  which  was 
sticking  fast  in  a  crevice  of  the  rock  :  "I  could  have  sworn 
he  was  standing  here  when  I  spoke." 

"And  so  could  I,"  returned  Kate,  shuddering,  and  press- 
ing closer  to  the  side  of  Stanley,  who  threw  his  arms  around 
her  slender  form,  and  drew  her  to  his  heart,  with  all  the 
fond  affection  of  an  ardent  lover. 

"Never  fear,  sweet  one,"  he  whispered,  bending  down 
and  stealing  a  kiss :  "  whatever  he  may  be  in  reality,  he 
seems  a  being  ordained  by  Heaven  to  stand  between  thee 
and  harm  ;  and  for  that  I  bless  him  now,  and  ever  will  here- 
after." 

Great  was  the  wonder  and  excitement  of  the  rest  of  the 
party,  when,  returning  into  the  cave,  they  were  informed 
of  the  sudden  and  mysterious  disappearance  of  Luther ;  for 
none  had  seen  him,  and  all  were  willing  to  swear  he  had 
not  passed  out  the  way  he  entered.  Ichabod  declared, 
however,  that  the  smoke  of  his  rifle,  when  he  fired  at 


160  KATE   CLARENDON. 

Moodj,  had  assumed  a  terrible  shape ;  and  now  he  remem- 
bered it  strangely  resembled  the  IS'ecromancer ;  though 
how  the  smoke  and  that  singular  personage  could  be  in  any 
■wise  alike,  or  connected,  exceeded  his  comprehension. 

The  mystery  now  became  a  matter  of  grave  discussion ; 
some  declaring  that  Luther  was  an  evil  spirit,  whose  term 
on  earth  expired  with  the  death  of  Moody ;  and  others, 
among  whom  were  Stanley  and  Kate,  contending  that  both 
were  bona  fide  beings  of  flesh  and  blood,  though  the  former 
was  a  very  strange  character,  whom  they  could  not  compre- 
hend. One  observation  brought  on  another,  and  the  dis- 
cussion seemed  likely  to  be  protracted  all  night,  when  Stan- 
ley ordered  a  sentinel  to  be  stationed  in  the  passage  before 
spoken  of,  and  the  others  to  retire  to  rest,  that  they  might 
be  prepared  for  their  return  on  the  following  day. 

What  took  place  during  the  night,  we  shall  now  relate. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE    CHASM. 

A  FEARFUL  gloomy  place. — *  *  *  * 

The  hell  of  waters. — Byron. 

When  sorrows  come,  they  come  not  single  spies, 
But  in  battalions. — Shakspeare. 

Thereat  he  smitten  was  with  great  affright, 
And  trembling  terror  did  his  heart  appall, 

Nor  wi.-^t  he  what  to  think  of  that  same  sight, 

Nor  what  to  say,  nor  what  to  do  at  all. — Spenser. 

Agha«t  he  stood, 
StifiFened  with  fear. — Somerville. 

The  account  given  by  Danvers,  of  the  disappearance  of 
Moody,  was  correct;  but  his  conjecture,  that  he  had  been 
wounded  bv  the  last  fire  of  Ichabod,  was  not.  At  the  time 
when  Moody  rushed  out  of  the  cave,  followed  by  those  who 
sought  his  life,  objects  at  a  short  distance  had  become  in- 
distinct, in  the  dark  grey  twilight  which  had  already  settled 
over  the  earth.  In  consequence  of  this,  the  gardener 
missed  his  mark ;  but  the  report  of  the  rifle,  and  the  whiz- 
zing of  its  ball  within  an  inch  of  his  head,  caused  Moody 
to  start  suddenly ;  when  his  foot  slipped,  his  balance  was 
lost,  and  he  plunged  down  the  chasm,  with  a  horrible  yell, 
expecting  of  course  to  be  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks  be- 
low. A  deep  pool  of  water,  at  the  foot  of  a  cascade,  saved 
him.  Into  this  he  fell,  with  a  force  that,  for  a  moment, 
stunned  and  confused  him  ;  but  quickly  regaining  his  senses, 
he  succeeded  in  crawling  upon  a  rock,  that  formed  a  par- 
tial barrier  to  the  outlet  of  the  pool.  This,  however,  was 
not  effected  without  difliculty  and  repeated  trials  ;  for  the 
11  14*  (161) 


162  KATE    CLARENDON. 

spray  from  the  cascade,  that  tumbled  over  a  precipice  a 
short  distance  behind  him,  had  coated  the  rock  with  a  slimy 
substance,  and  made  it  slippery  as  an  iceberg. 

Seating  himself  at  last  upon  the  rock,  with  as  much  com- 
posure as  he  could  assume,  after  having  been  so  signally 
thwarted  in  his  dark  scheme,  he  instantly  set  his  brain  to 
plotting  the  best  means  by  which  he  could  yet  retrieve  what 
he  had  lost,  and  revenge  himself  for  the  new  indignities 
that  had  been  heaped  upon  him. 

"  They  think  me  dead,  of  course,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self; "and  well  they  may,  after  pitching  me  into  such  a 
dark,  dungeon-like,  thundering  hole  as  this ;  but  I'll  show 
them  I  am  not  thus  easily  put  out  of  the  way.  It  is  well 
as  it  is ;  for  now  they  will  think  themselves  safe,  and  thus 
give  me  the  better  chance  to  make  sure  plans  and  take 
them  unawares.     A  curse  on  that  old  juggler,  who  has 

thwarted  my  designs  so  often  !     By !  I'll  soon  have 

his  old  scalp  where  it  will  not  trouble  me  again — that  is  if 
he  is  mortal,"  he  added,  in  an  under  tone,  endeavoring  to 
peer  around  him  into  the  darkness,  as  if  fearful  that  he  of 
whom  he  spoke  might  somehow  mysteriously  make  his  ap- 
pearance, as  he  had  more  than  once  done  before. 

""Who  and  what  can  he  be,  anyhow?"  he  continued, 
after  a  moment's  pause.  "  There  is  something  wonderful 
about  him,  I  must  own ;  and  even  the  savages  fear,  and 
respect  him,  and  call  him  Great  Medicine.  And  what  does 
he  know  of  me  ?  and  how  did  he  obtain  his  knowledge  ? 
By  heavens  !  the  more  I  think  and  see  of  him,  the  more 
mysterious  he  seems.  Can  it  be  that  what  he  said  was 
true  ?  I  would  not  believe  it,  but  that  I  saw,  with  my  own 
eyes,  the  mark  under  my  left  arm.  There  can  be  no  deny- 
ing that,  at  all  events — unless — (and  Moody  paused  and 
mused,  as  one  who  doubts,  and  yet  is  inclined  to  believe) — 
unless  he  by  some  strange  magic  power  made  it  to  appear 


THE  ciiAS^r.  16 


o 


there  for  the  time.     At  all  events,"  he  added,  fiercely,  "  it 
is  crone  now,  and  the  flesh  with  it,  as  I  can  sorely  feel;  and 

man  or  devil,  by !  I'll  have  my  revenge  on  him  yet, 

or  die  in  the  attempt. 

"  He  says  I  am  brother  to  Stanley — twin  brother,"  re- 
sumed the  outcast,  after  another  short  pause.     May  be  I 
am — or  was — (on  the  last  word  he  laid  particular  emphasis) 
— or  was,  I  say — for  now  that  the  totem  is  removed,  vre  are 
brothers  no  longer.     Besides,  he  has  done  enough  to  alien- 
ate me  from  him  without  this.     A  curse  on  him,"  he  fairly 
shouted,   "  brother  or  no  brother,  for   crossing  me  in  my 
love  !     For  this — for  this  I  would  have  revenge,  though  his 
claim  to  the  fraternal  tie  were  never  so  well  proven,  and 
though  I  had  called  him  brother  all  my  life.     Ah  !   my 
shoulder — a  curse,  too,  on  that  gardener  ! — but  I'll  have  all 
settled  ere  long.     !Now  to  get  out  of  this  infernal  place ; 
for  infernal  it  seems,  and  dark  as  the  regions  of  the  damned. 
I  am  wet  and  chilly,  and  my  wound  feels  painful.     Let  me 
once  get  out  of  this  place,  and  I  trust  my  dusky  brethren 
may  be  easily  found,  even  if  they  have  moved  their  camp." 
Saying  this,  he  slid  down  from  the  rock  into  the  water, 
on  the  side  opposite  to  that  which  he  had  ascended  on 
emerging  from  the  pool.     It  was  not  deep — not  more  than 
five  inches  at  the  most — but  a  rather  abrupt  declivity  gave 
it  an  impetus  that  sent  it  foaming  and   roaring  over  the 
rocks  in  its   course   to   the  plain   below,  and  rendered  it 
highly  dangerous  footing,  even  in  daylight ;  for  a  slip,  or 
an  unguarded  step,  would  in  all  probability  plunge  the  ad- 
venturer down  its  jagged  path,  and  dash  him  to  pieces ; 
and  consequently  it  was  none  the  less  perilous  now,  when 
night  and  the  overhanging  cliffs  had  shrouded  it  in  dark- 
ness. 

Moody    at    once   comprehended   his    danger ;    and   his 
heart  beat  fast  and  hard  against  his  breast,  and  sometimes 


164  KATE   CLARENDON. 

Becmed  to  rise  in  his  very  throat ;  so  much  was  he,  ^vho 
under  ordinary  circumstances  feared  not  death,  awed  by 
the  gloom  and  peril  of  his  present  situation. 

"  I  should  not  boast  of  my  escape  yet,"  he  said  to  him- 
self; "  for  death  assuredly  stares  me  in  the  face,  and  pre- 
sents his  most  unwelcome  aspect." 

Carefully  feeling  his  way,  he  now  moved  to  one  side  of 
the  narrow  channel,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  rock,  in 
hopes  of  finding  some  means  of  ascending  the  cliff,  or 
keeping  along  upon  its  bank.  None  was  found.  The 
cliff,  as  high  as  he  could  reach,  was  perpendicular,  and 
slippery  as  glass.  He  crossed  the  channel,  and  found  the 
opposite  cliff  the  same.  There  was  nothing  left  for  him 
but  to  go  down  the  bed  of  the  stream  ;  and  accordingly 
he  began  to  do  so,  keeping  hold  of  the  rock,  to  steady 
himself  as  best  he  could  over  the  slimy  stones  and  treach- 
erous ground  beneath  his  feet. 

Por  some  time  he  continued  his  descent  slowly,  without 
meeting  any  difficulty  worthy  of  notice.  He  had  already 
advanced  a  hundred  yards,  and  was  beginning  to  congratu- 
late himself  on  his  second  escape,  when  his  ears  were  sa- 
luted with  a  dull,  roaring  sound,  like  the  fall  of  a  heavy 
body  of  water.  He  paused  in  dismay,  and  listened. 
He  could  hear  it  distinctly,  above  the  more  shallow 
roaring,  if  we  may  so  express  it,  of  the  torrent  rushing 
past.  He  comprehended  the  fearful  truth  ;  and  again  his 
heart  died  within  him,  and  he  would  have  sunk  down  in 
despair,  had  he  not  feared  the  awful  denouement  would  be 
hastened  by  quitting  his  hold  of  the  rock.  Ahead  of  him 
was  certainly  another  cascade,  the  brow  of  which  he  was 
nearing  at  every  step,  and  down  which  he  must  assuredly 
plunge — or,  what  was  equally  as  terrifying,  remain  im- 
prisoned where  he  was. 

For  some  moments  he  stood  irresolute,  during  which  his 


THE    CHASM.  165 


extreme  agony  of  mind  caused  a  cold  perspiration  to  ooze 
from  every  pore  of  his  skin.  For  almost  the  first  time  in 
his  life  of  guilt  he  tried  to  pray ;  but  the  words  stuck  in 
his  throat,  and  seemed  to  choke  him.  Death,  now  that  he 
had  felt  so  confident  of  escape,  rose  up  before  him  in  all 
its  terrors.  Despair  at  last  took  the  place  of  hope  and 
fear ;  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  throwing  himself  flat- 
wise on  the  current,  and  trusting  the  rest  to  chance,  when 
a  new  idea  struck  him,  and  he  suddenly  exclaimed : 

"  What  a  fool  I  am  to  get  frightened  at  imaginary  ter- 
rors !  How  do  I  know  there  is  not  a  way  to  pass  these 
falls  without  going  down  with  the  water?" 

,  Saying  this,  his  courage  revived,  and  he  again  moved 
forward  with  renewed  hope.  Nearer  and  nearer  he  drew 
to  the  falls,  and  louder  and  louder  came  up  the  sullen  roar 
of  the  waters.  At  last  he  stood  upon  the  verge  of  tJie 
precipice,  and,  with  the  utmost  difiiculty,  prevented  his 
feet  from  being  drawn  down  into  the  unknown  chasm,  by 
the  force  of  the  rapids.  He  carefully  felt  of  the  rock  to 
which  he  clung ;  but,  to  his  disappointment,  could  find  no 
broken  or  craggy  places  to  aid  him  in  his  descent.  All, 
as  before,  was  upright,  smooth,  and  solid,  save  occasionally 
a  little  crag  that  made  a  hold  for  his  fingers.  Again  hope 
died,  and  he  secretly  wished  for  that  great  change  which 
his  guilty  soul  shrunk  from  encountering.  What  was  to 
be  done  ?  He  could  not  long  remain  where  he  was,  for  his 
efforts  to  keep  himself  there  had  already  tired  his  arms, 
and  weakened  him  not  a  little.  At  last  he  decided  to  re- 
trace his  steps,  until  he  should  come  to  an  easier  footing, 
and  there,  if  possible,  hold  out  till  daylight  should  enable 
him  to  devise  some  means  of  escape. 

Accordingly,  with  great  caution,  and  at  the  risk  of  his 
life,  he  moved  up  the  stream  some  fifty  yards,  when  he 
came  to  a  place  where  the  rock  slightly  jutted  out,  so  that 


166  KATE   CLARENDON. 


lie  could  place  his  body  against  it,  and  rest  somewhat  com- 
fortably. Here  he  determined  on  remaining  till  morning 
— or,  at  all  events,  until  the  moon,  which  was  a  little  past 
her  full,  had  arisen  sufficiently  to  light  up  his  gloomy 
abode. 

Terrible  were  the  thoughts  that  nov/  crowded  the  mind 
of  this  dark  man.  Alone,  as  it  were  in  the  bowels  of  the 
earth,  with  dangers  on  every  hand,  he  was  thus  forced  to 
think  and  feel  as  he  had  never  done  before ;  and  as,  unless 
under  similar  circumstances,  he  might  never  do  again.  It 
is  one  thing  to  face  death  in  the  heat  of  strife,  when  all 
the  faculties  of  the  mind  are  turned  into  the  channel  of 
self-defence,  ambition,  glory  or  revenge — when  thoughts 
of  the  great  hereafter  are  lost  in  the  wild,  frenzied  pas- 
sions of  the  moment — and  another  to  contemplate  it  in 
silence,  alone,  away  from  aught  that  can  distract  the  mind. 
Men  talk  of  heroes — of  courage  on  the  field  of  battle — 
where  everything  is  calculated  to  excite,  intoxicate,  bewil- 
der, and  draw  them  forward  to  they  know  not  what,  nor 
have  time  nor  power  to  know ;  but  this  is  no  more  to  be 
compared  to  that  moral  courage  which  can  meet  death 
calmly  in  solitude,  than  is  the  wild  blustering  of  a  drunken 
man  to  what  one  coolly  and  firmly  asserts  in  sober  reason. 
The  one  is  the  bravery  of  the  animal  merely,  without  the 
action  of  the  mind ;  the  other,  the  courage  of  the  mind, 
without  the  action  of  the  body.  In  proof  of  this,  how 
often  do  we  hear  of  men,  who,  amid  the  carnage  of  the 
ensanguined  field,  have  rushed  up  recklessly,  fearless  of 
all  danger,  to  the  belching  cannon's  mouth,  placing  their 
lives  as  if  by  choice  in  the  greatest  jeopardy,  and  thus 
winning  laurels  of  courage  to  bind  their  brows  forever, 
and  make  them  model  heroes  for  future  ages — shrinking 
back  in  their  calm,  sober  moments,  like  some  timid  boy, 
from  the  near  approach  of  death. 


THE    CIIAS.M.  1G7 


Of  this  ]ast  class  was  Moody.  Under  the  influence  of 
excitement  and  passion  he  was  as  brave,  so  far  as  animal 
courage  goes,  as  the  bravest ;  but  take  these  away,  as  in 
the  present  instance,  and  he  became  at  once  the  veriest 
coward  on  earth. 

There  is  ever  something  awful  in  contemplating  death, 
when  all  the  energies  and  reasoning  powers  of  the  mind 
are  in  full  blast  ;  vrhen  we  see  and  feel  that  we  are  slowly, 
but  surely,  hastening  to  that  dread  change  which  all  must 
undergo,  but  of  which  no  one  knoweth  that  hath  a  being 
in  the  mortal  state ;  when  we  are  throwinc^  off  this  earthlv 
coil,  bidding  a  last  farewell  to  scenes  and  friends  of  which 
we  have  a  knowledge,  and,  it  may  be,  "  flying  to  other  ills 
that  we  know  not  of." 

Moody  now  had  time  for  grave  contemplation ;  and, 
moreover,  was  forced  to  it  by  surrounding  circumstances. 
Cold  and  wet,  he  leaned  against  the  rock,  and  thoug-ht  of 
the  past— of  his  life  of  sin  and  crime — and  something  like 
remorse  harrovv'ed  up  his  guilty  soul.  How  much  better, 
he  felt,  it  would  have  been,  had  his  course  been  upright  and 
honest ;  had  he  lived  a  life  of  virtue,  and,  with  the  talents 
lie  possessed,  and  the  advantages  which  had  been  given 
him,  been  a  shining  ornament  to  society,  instead  of  a  dis- 
grace and  a  curse.  He  thought  of  the  awful  fate  which 
seemed  to  be  hanorinor  over  him,  and  the  little  chance  he 
had  of  escaping  it ;  and  his  soul  fairly  shrunk  at  the  possi- 
bility of  what  he  might  meet  in  the  dread  Beyond.  Ho 
had  been  taught  pious  words  in  his  youth — he  had  read  the 
Bible — ^and,  in  spite  of  his  reckless,  awful  career,  he  be- 
lieved there  was  a  Heaven  for  the  good,  and  a  Hell  for  the 
wicked;  and  it  needed  no  argument,  he  felt,  to  prove  to 
which  he  belonged.  Death  now  had  terrors,  that  death 
seemed  never  to  have  had  before ;  and  he  quaked  and 
trembled  where  he  stood,  like  the  guilty  thing  he  was. 


168  KATE    CLAllEKDON. 


Minute  succeeded  minute,  and  hours  had  already  elapsed, 
ere  the  moon  had  sulScientij  risen  to  throw  her  silvery- 
rays  down  the  steep  rocks  upon  the  foaming  flood  in  which 
Moody  still  remained.  As  soon  as  her  bright  light  fell 
upon  the  waters,  the  outcast  thought  best  to  make  another 
trial  for  his  life.  Accordingly  he  changed  his  position, 
and  again  descended  toward  the  cascade.  When  within 
ten  feet  of  the  precipice,  over  which  the  water  tumbled,  he 
fancied  he  saw  a  ruggedness  in  the  opposite  rock  that  might 
enable  him  to  climb  to  the  summit,  and  thus  avoid  the  falls 
altogether.  His  heart  bounded  at  the  thought ;  and,  re- 
gardless of  the  risk  he  ran,  he  at  once  set  out  to  ford  the 
stream.  When  about  half  way  across,  his  feet  struck 
against  a  rock — he  stumbled — fell — and  the  next  moment 
the  rushing  stream  had  borne  him  to  the  brow  of  the  awful 
precipice.  There  was  no  help  now;  all  hope  of  escape 
was  cut  off;  and  throwing  himself  as  much  as  possible  into 
an  upright  position,  as  he  passed  the  verge,  he  uttered  one 
prayer,  ''  God  save  me !"  and  disappeared — down — down — 
into  the  hell  of  waters  below. 

That  man  has  an  appointed  time  to  die,  might  be 
strongly  argued  from  the  fact,  that  we  every  day  witness, 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  what  men  undergo  and  live ; 
and  yet  how  little  it  requires,  when  their  time  has  come,  to 
cut  the  brittle  thread  of  life,  and  launch  them  into  eternity. 
Had  we  time  and  space,  we  might  cite  numerous  instances 
that  have  come  to  our  own  knowledge,  where  men  have 
undergone  tenfold  the  agonies  of  death — have  been  given 
over  by  skilful  physicians — have  been  wept  as  dead — who 
have  recovered  and  lived,  as  it  were  to  show  a  miracle  to 
the  world — and  yet  have  died  at  last,  by  the  simplest  of  all 
ailments,  a  cold,  or  a  scratch  of  the  finger.  That  such 
cases  are  of  common  occurrence,  we  all  know ;  but  where- 
fore, is  one  of  those  great  mysteries  by  which  the  Creator 


THE  ciiAs:.r.         ,  169 


designs  to  -work  out  his  own  ends ;  and  the  best  lesson  we 
can  draw  from  them  is,  that  we  should  at  all  times  be  ready 
for  the  uncertainty  of  life. 

By  the  common  phrase,  that  "  his  time  had  not  come," 
we  must  account  for  the  wonderful  preservation  of  Moody 
in  the  present  instance.  His  chance  of  escape,  unharmed, 
was  in  the  ratio  of  one  to  a  million — and  yet  he  escaped. 
lu  the  exact  spot  where  he  went  down,  was  an  immense 
depth  of  water — a  pool  not  unlike  the  one  above,  thouo-h 
much  smaller — which  was  on  every  side  surrounded  by 
rocks.  The  falls  were  some  thirty  feet  in  height ;  and 
there  was  only  one  spot  which  presented  the  possibility  of 
escape,  and  but  one  means  of  reaching  it.  This  spot,  by 
means  of  which  he  was  at  the  time  unconscious.  Moody 
gained. 

It  will  be  recollected,  as  he  went  over  the  verge  of  the 
precipice,  he  managed  to  take  an  upright  position.  As 
luck  would  have  it,  the  exertion  which  he  made  in  doing  so, 
Bent  him  clear  of  the  main  body  of  the  stream,  and  he 
went  down  just  outside  of  the  falling  sheet.  Standing 
perpendicularly,  his  feet  struck  square  upon  the  surface  of 
the  pool,  while  the  force  with  which  he  descended  instantly 
buried  him  far  below.  A  re-action  took  place,  and  his  head 
soon  rose  far  above  the  water.  With  great  presence  of 
mind  he  grappled  a  rock,  and  the  next  moment  was  safe, 
and  had  an  opportunity  of  perceiving  how  near  he  had  been 
to  the  jaws  of  death. 

Had  he  gone  down  in  the  current,  instead  of  out  of  it — 
had  he  fallen  flatwise — had  he  varied  a  foot — or,  in  fact 
had  he  not  passed  over  the  falls  exactly  in  the  place  and 
manner  he  did,  he  must  assuredly  have  been  dashed  to 
pieces  upon  the  surrounding  rocks.  A  direct  Providence, 
it  seemed,  alone  saved  him ;  and,  for  a  time,  something  like 
a.  feeling  of  gratitude  to  the  Guardian  of  his  destiny,  held 

15 


170  KATE   CLARENDON. 

a  place  in  his  breast ;  and  he  gazed  around  him  in  silent 
awe.  But,  as  generally  happens  with  those  whose  hearts 
are  hardened  past  redemption,  no  sooner  did  he  realize  that 
he  was  actually  safe,  than  his  wild,  vindictive  feelings  gained 
the  ascendancy ;  and  lie  was  fain  to  attribute  to  his  own 
presence  of  mind,  what  should  have  been  yielded  to  a 
Higher  Power. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !"  he  laughed,  at  length,  rather  impiously  ; 
*'  why  should  I  fear  death?  Do  I  not  always  escape,  even 
where  escape  seems  impossible  ?  I  have  nothing  to  fear — 
my  good  fortune  will  carry  me  through  all  extremes." 

With  this  he  rose,  and,  ascending  the  bank,  which  was 
here  not  difficult  to  climb,  descended  to  the  plain.  Pausing 
a  moment  in  an  open  spot,  where  the  moon  shone  full  upon 
his  dark  countenance,  displaying  there  a  grim  smile,  ho 
turned,  and  was  quickly  buried  in  the  surrounding  forest. 

Presumptuous  fool !  How  little  did  he  know  of  what  the 
future  had  in  store  for  him ! 


CHAPTER    XYI. 

THE    CAMP   AND    COUNCIL    OF   THE   FOE. 

Oh,  frail  inconstancy  of  mortal  state  ! 

One  hour  dejected,  and  the  next  elate  ! 

Pv-iiijed  by  false  hopes,  or  hy  false  fears  depress'd; 

How  different  passions  sway  the  human  breast. — Pattersox. 

To  council  now,  and  vengeance  then  ? — A>'on. 

Some  five  miles  higher  up  the  Miami,  and  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  stream  itself,  was  encamped,  on  the  night  of 
the  events  detailed,  a  band  of  warriors.  Their  camp,  how- 
ever, was  very  simple.  A  small  fire  was  burning  on  a 
smooth  plat ;  around  which,  with  their  feet  centering  toward 
the  flame,  lay  extended  some  eight  or  ten  dark  figures, 
asleep — apparently  so,  at  least — over  which  the  flickering 
and  sombre  light  cast  wild,  fantastic  shadows.  The  party 
had  not  even  taken  the  precaution  to  station  sentinels — a 
proof  that  they  felt  themselves  perfectly  secure.  They  were 
in  the  Indian  country,  where  all  the  tribes  were  friendly 
to  each  other,  and  afar,  as  they  imagined,  from  the  whites, 
their  only  enemies.  'Tis  true,  they  had  been  on  the  war- 
path against  the  latter,  and  some  of  their  garments  were 
yet  stained  with  the  blood  of  recent  victims ;  while,  at  the 
girdles  of  two,  hung  fresh  scalps.  It  was  natural  to  sup- 
pose they  would  be  followed ;  yet  they  seemed  to  have  no 
fears — fancying,  doubtless,  that  they  were  now  either  too 
far  distant  to  be  overtaken  immediately,  or  that  their  foes 
were  too  unskillful  on  the  trail  to  find  them  ;  and  the  more 
so,  that  they  had  broken  it  for  miles,  by  passing  up  the  bed 
of  the  river.  Thus  they  slept  in  security — not  as  soundly, 
perhaps,  as  they  would  have  done  in  their  own  cabins ;  but 

(171) 


172  KATE    CLAKEXDON". 

sufficiently  sound  to  answer  all  the  purposes  of  nature,  in 
refreshino;  tlieir  wearied  bodies — while  the  wanini^  moon, 
riding  high  in  the  heavens,  poured  down  over  all  her  flood 
of  mellow  light,  and  partially  dimmed  the  gleam  of  the 
fire  of  their  camp. 

It  was  not  far  from  the  meridian  of  night,  when  a  tall 
figure  glided  among  the  trees,  and  stealthily  approached 
them.  When  within  ten  yards,  he  halted,  examined  them 
attentively,  and  then,  as  if  satisfied  all  was  right,  advanced 
boldly  toward  the  circle.  Even  this  last  movement  seemed 
tmheeded ;  though  one  or  two  turned  and  moved  their 
limbs,  as  if  troubled  by  some  unpleasant  dream ;  and  one 
actually  went  through  the  motions  of  taking  the  scalp. 

"  Warriors  on  the  war-path,"  said  the  voice  of  the 
figure,  speaking  in  the  Shawanee  dialect,  "  I  am  surprised 
to  find  you  sleeping  without  a  sentinel !" 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  speaker's  voice,  each  Indian 
sprung  to  his  feet  in  surprise,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
rifle  by  his  side,  ready  for  defence. 

"  Ugh !"  ejaculated  most  of  the  warriors,  as  their  eyes 
fell  upon  the  speaker ;  while  the  grasp  upon  their  weapons 
gradually  relaxed,  and  they  stood  still,  as  if  waiting  to  hear 
further. 

"Brothers,"  continued  Moody,  for  he  it  was,  "you  sleep 
too  soundly  on  the  war-path,  and  might  have  been  sur- 
prised by  the  pale-faces." 

"  Does  my  brother  know  of  danger,  that  he  thus  chides 
us?"  asked  a  tall,  fierce-looking  savage,  who  appeared  to  be 
one  possessed  of  authority. 

"  There  is  always  danger  when  foes  are  in  pursuit," 
replied  Moody. 

"Are  the  pale-faces  then  on  our  trail?"  inquired  the 
other,  a  fierce  gleam  of  satisfaction  shooting  athwart  his 
dark  visage. 


THE   CA:IP   AI'D   COrXCIL  OF   THE   FOE.  17.3 

"  They  are  within  five  miles  of  us,"  answered  Moodj, 
"  and  have  possessed  themselves  of  the  bird  which  I  caught 
in  my  snare." 

The  hand  of  each  was  again  placed  upon  a  weapon,  and 
each  turned  to  the  other  a  startled  look  of  inquiry,  but  no 
one  replied.  After  a  silence  of  perhaps  a  minute,  the  one 
who  had  first  addressed  Moody,  rejoined  : 

"  "Will  my  brother  explain  ?  or  does  danger  press?" 

As  Moody  apprehended  no  danger  himself,  he  briefly 
narrated  such  of  the  events  already  known  to  the  reader, 
as  he  thought  most  likely  to  rouse  the  ire  of  his  swarthy 
companions,  and  induce  them  to  enter  into  his  plans — 
carefully  avoiding,  however,  any  mention  of  Luther ;  who 
was  known  personally,  or  by  report",  to  all  present,  and 
feared  as  a  Great  Medicine,  to  contend  with  whom  would 
be  useless — their  superstitious  fears  magnifying  him  into 
a  supernatural  being,  directly  under  the  influence  and 
guidance  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

"You  have  heard!"  said  Moody,  in  conclusion,  glan- 
cing round  upon  his  auditors,  and  noting,  with  satisfaction, 
the  involuntary  tightening  of  their  hands  upon  their  rifles, 
the  gleaming  of  their  eyes,  and  the  dilating  of  their  nos- 
trils, the  only  signs  indicative  of  their  intense  interest  in 
his  recital. 

No  one  replied ;  and  after  a  silence  of  some  moments, 
Moody  resumed,  in  a  rather  impatient  tone : 

"  I  trust,  my  brothers,  you  are  not  turning  squaws. 
That  you  have  been  brave,  these  eyes  have  seen,  and  this 
tongue  can  bear  witness.  Are  you  ready  for  the  war-path 
a<^ain? — or  are  your  knives  and  hatchets  dull,  and  your 
powder  wet  ?     Speak  !  for  Posetha*  would  know." 

*  Posetha,  or  Cat— the  Indian  name  of  Moody— probably  bestowed  on 
account  of  his  stealthy  movements. 

15^ 


174  KATE   CLARENDON. 

"My  brother,"  replied  Mugwa,*  the  spokesman  on  the 
part  of  the  Indians,  "  is  hasty.  Posetha  should  remember 
an  Indian  must  always  take  time  to  consider  before  he 
adopts  a  new  plan.  We  have  been  on  the  war-path  toward 
the  south,  and  our  faces  are  now  set  to  the  north.  Before 
we  change  our  course,  we  must  hold  counsel." 

"Then,  by !    let   it  be  held   speedily  I"  growled 

Moody,  in  English,  making  use  of  an  oath.  "  If  you  don't 
choose  to  accompany  me  soon,  I  shall  go  alone ;  for  be 
revenged  I  will,  though  it  cost  me  my  life." 

As  this  was  said  in  a  low  tone,  and  in  a  language  which 
the  best  among  them  but  imperfectly  understood,  it  of 
course  elicited  no  remark.  Each,  however,  noted  the  man- 
ner of  Moody,  and  saw  that  he  was  dissatisfied;  but  even 
this  failed  to  bring  out  a  single  comment ;  so  accustomed 
"were  the  Indians  to  silence,  when  any  important  question 
■was  pending.  Having  seated  themselves  around  the  fire, 
Mugwa  now  slowly  produced  a  pipe,  which  he  filled,  and 
lighted,  smoked  a  short  time  in  silence,  and  passed  to  his 
neighbor  ;  who,  imitating  his  example,  smoked,  and  passed 
it  to  the  next ;  and  thus  it  went  around  the  circle — Moody 
merely  drawing  a  few  whifis,  to  comply  as  briefly  as  possi- 
ble with  the  Indian  council  custom. 

When  the  last  smoker  had  done,  and  a  sufficient  pause 
had  succeeded,  Mugwa  rose  and  said  : 

"  The  ears  of  the  Piquas  are  now  open  to  the  words  of 
the  pale-face  chief.  Let  my  brother  lay  before  them  his 
plans,  that  they  may  consider  if  they  be  wise." 

"Brothers,"  rejoined  Moody,  rising  as  the  other  sat 
down,  "  my  words  shall  be  few,  and  to  the  point ;  for  my 
tongue  is  parched  and  thirsty  for  blood,  and  my  limbs  are 
weary  and  stiff"  with  long  watching  in  the  bow^els  of  the 


Bear 


THE   CAMP   AND   COUNCIL   OF   THE   FOE.  175 

earth.  Brothers,  I  was  made  your  chief,  and  we  have  been 
upon  the  war-path  together — not  unsuccessfully,  as  yon- 
der trophies  bear  witness."  Here  he  pointed  to  the  two 
scalps  before  mentioned,  one  of  v/hich  was  dangling  from 
the  belt  of  Mugwa.  "Brothers,"  he  continued,  "  on  that 
war-path  all  were  brave,  and  fought  as  became  warriors, 
until  prudence,  the  gift  of  the  wise,  bade  them  retire.  On 
that  war-path  Posetha  caught  a  dove,  and  had  her  caged, 
and  then  went  and  consulted  his  brothers,  and  asked,  and 
they  generously  gave  him  permission  to  do  with  her  as  he 
might  see  proper.  Brothers,  Posetha  returned  to  the  cage 
v>here  he  had  left  his  dove,  and  there  he  found  her,  and 
was  happy,  until  the  vultures  of  pale-faces  came  and 
snatched  her  away,  and  set  upon  him,  and  nearly  picked 
out  his  eyes.  Brothers,  Posetha  would  have  revenge  ! — 
he  would  have  the  bones  of  the  pale-faces  whiten  in  the 
open  air,  while  their  scalps  dry  in  the  cabins  of  his  red 
friends  !  Brothers,  if  you  are  ambitious,  now  is  the  time 
to  distinguish  yourselves,  and  carry  home  trophies  that 
shall  please  the  Great  Spirit,  and  send  your  names  down 
by  tradition  to  far  posterity.  The  pale-faces  will  be  un- 
guarded ;  they  think  the  "  Cat"  is  dead  ;  and  they  can  be 
taken  unawares,  and  conquered  without  a  blow.  Brothers, 
if  you  are  willing,  Posetha  will  lead  you  to  a  cover,  where 
your  enemies  will  pass  unguarded,  and  can  all  be  made 
your  prisoners  for  the  torture,  or  their  scalps  can  be  taken 
on  the  spot.  Brothers,  I  have  only  one  reserve  to  make  : 
the  dove  must  not  be  harmed ;  she  is  mine,  and  I  must 
have  her  to  coo  in  my  wigwam.  Brothers,  I  am  done,  and 
wait  your  answers." 

Moody  sat  down,  and  a  deep  silence  succeeded.  Each 
savage  remained  motionless  as  marble,  with  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  fire,  apparently  in  a  contemplative  mood.  At 
length  Mugwa  motioned  for  the  pipe ;  and  on  its  being 


176  KATE    CLARENDON". 

handed  him,  he  refilled  it,  smoked  a  little,  and  passed  it  to 
his  neighbor ;  and  thus  it  went  around  the  circle  again,  in 
silence,  not  a  single  warrior  having  opened  his  lips.  After 
another  brief  pause,  whereby  each  seemed  determined  to 
give  his  neighbor  a  chance,  Mugwa,  chief  of  the  Indians, 
arose.  We  say  chief;  for  although  Moody  was  nominally 
60,  yet  Mugwa  had  more  direct  command  over  the  savages 
than  the  other. 

For  a  moment  or  two,  Mugvra  ran  his  eyes  over  the 
group  before  him,  as  we  sometimes  see  an  orator,,  when  he 
desires  to  make  an  impression,  and  draw  exclusive  atten- 
tion to  himself.  He  was  a  tall,  powerful  warrior,  and  in 
his  paint  looked  sufficiently  ferocious  to  entitle  him  to  his 
appellation  of  the  "Bear,"  or  please  the  vanity  of  a  savage. 
His  eyes  were  black  and  fiery,  and  a  look  of  cunning  and 
brutality  formed  the  prevailing  expression  of  his  features. 

*' Brothers,"  he  said  at  length,  ''you  have  heard  the 
words  of  Posetha;  to  Mugwa  they  seem  wise  and  good. 
There  seems  a  chance  for  more  trophies.  A  chance  to  take 
new  vengeance  on  this  hated  race,  that  is  fast  usurping  our 
own  and  the  hunting  grounds  of  our  fathers.  Soon  shall 
we  be  forced  toward  the  setting  sun,  unless  our  hands  are 
continually  dyed  in  their  blood.  They  will  overrun  and 
cover  the  land  we  tread  on,  as  the  leaves  in  the  autumn. 
If  a  viper  creep  into  our  wigwam,  do  we  not  crush  it,  lest 
it  do  us  harm  ? — and  yet  were  the  ground  thick  with  vipers, 
instead  of  pale-faces,  we  should  have  reason  to  rejoice. 
Brothers,  on  this  war-path  we  have  done  well — shall  we  not 
do  better  ?  Shall  we  not  please  our  squaws  and  young 
men,  by  bringing  them  prisoners  to  torture  ?  When  we 
take  the  scalps  of  our  enemies,  the  Great  Spirit  is  pleased 
— shall  we  not,  then,  please  the  Great  Spirit  ?  The  voice 
of  Mugwa  says  '  Yes  !'     Who  says  'No  ?'     Let  me  hear  !'* 

Here  Mugwa  sat  down,  amid  grunts  of  approbation  from 


THE    CAMP   AND    COUXCTL   OF    THE   FOE.  177 

his  savage  auditors.     Another  profound  silence   of  some 
minutes  succeeded,  when  a  warrior  rose. 

"  Unkee,"  he  said,  "  has  heard  the  words  of  the  great 
chiefs,  and  he  thinks  them  wise.  In  the  lodge  of  Unkee 
are  a  squaw  and  three  pappooses.  "When  he  returns,  they 
will  ask  to  see  his  trophies.  Unkee  has  nothing  to  show. 
Their  faces  will  be  sad.  Unkee  would  have  them  glad. 
The  great  chiefs  have  pointed  out  a  way.  Unkee  is  pleased, 
and  he  thinks  the  chiefs  wise.     He  is  done," 

Saying  this,  the  last  speaker  quietly  resumed  his  seat. 
But  enough  had  been  said.  There  was  no  further  need  of 
grave  deliberation.  The  minds  of  all  had  become  fully  set- 
tled. Their  passions  had  been  wrought  upon,  and  they 
were  ready  for  deeds  of  blood.  Suddenly  some  two  or 
three  warriors  sprung  to  their  feet,  and  uttered  the  scalp 
halloo.  Others  followed  their  example.  The  matter  was 
soon  decided,  and  the  council  over.  "Water  was  now  brought 
and  thrown  upon  the  fire ;  belts  were  tightened ;  weapons 
put  in  their  proper  places ;  and  the  announcement  was 
made  that  all  was  ready. 

"  Follow !"   said  Moody ;   and   taking  his  way  across  a 

small  open  plat,  he  was  soon   buried  in  a  dense  thicket. 

One   after  another,  to  the  number  of  ten  dark  warriors, 

trod  in  his  steps,  and,  disappearing,  left  the  scene  of  the 

late  council  silent  and  deserted. 
12 


CHAPTER   XYIL 

A   SEARCII    FOR   THE   BODY. 

Sttll  in  doubt,  fi-nd  still  perplexed, 

The  more  we  searcti,  the  more  we're  vexed. — Brinley's  Rescue. 

''Daylight!"  ex'^laimed  the  voice  of  the  sentinel,  Tvho 
had  been  stationed  to  keep  watch  jr^  the  cave ;  and  the 
word  was  heard  ecKoing  far  awaj  to  the  most  distant  re- 
cesses. 

This  was  the  sign&l  for  the  party  to  bfc  astir;  and  Stan- 
ley, who  was  encamped  upon  the  ground  nearest  the 
speaker,  instantly  spwnng  to  his  feet;  and,  without  commu- 
nicating with  any,  at  once  took  his  way  to  the  mouth  of 
the  cave.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  and,  unlike  the  one 
preceding  it,  the  atmosphere  was  clear  and  without  mist. 
A  few  crimson  streaks  in  the  east,  and  a  dull,  leaden  gray 
color  that  had  settled  over  the  earth,  announced  that  day 
was  already  dawning.  In  the  west,  the  waning  moon 
could  still  be  seen ;  but  its  light  appeared  pale  and  sickly, 
as  it  mingled  with  that  of  the  coming  day,  which  was  soon 
to  supersede  it  altogether.  All  was  pleasant  and  serene, 
with  no  cloud  to  mar  the  broad,  blue  canopy  above.  A 
heavy  dew  had  fallen  during  the  night,  and  was  now  re- 
posing, in  silvery  drops,  upon  the  rocks,  and  the  leaves  of 
a  few  bushes  which  grew  around  the  entrance  of  the  cave 
and  overhung  the  stream  that  roared  and  foamed  far  be- 
low. The  air  was  cool  and  bracing,  and  a  light  breeze  bore 
to  the  ear  of  our  hero  the  songs  of  several  warblers. 

Although  Stanley  stood  and  gazed  around  him  in  the 
(178) 


A    SEARCH   FOR    THE    BDDY.  179 

pale  light,  and  saw  tlie  beauties  of  the  morning,  he  could 
not  shake  off  a  feeling  of  sadness  that  had  taken  possession 
of  his  soul.  The  events  of  the  departing  night,  now  came 
up  before  him  like  a  dream.  His  mind  instantly  reverted 
to  the  strange  revelations  of  Luther,  and  he  thought  how 
mysterious  were  the  ways  of  Providence.  Could  it  be  that 
Moody  was  his  brother ! — and  if  so,  how  wonderful  that 
they  should  meet  as  foes  in  the  great  wilderness  !  Could 
it  be,  too,  that  both  were  nobly  born  ! — and  if  so,  how 
singular  that  he  should  be  thus  left  to  grow  up  in  igno- 
rance of  a  fact  so  important !  It  might  be  true,  he  felt, 
for  he  had  never  known  father  nor  mother.  He  had  been 
reared  and  educated  by  a  New  England  family,  until  the 
ao-e  of  eio-hteen,  when  he  had  been  told  it  rested  with  him 
to  choose  his  occupation  for  life.  He  had  chosen  the 
army,  and  been  placed  in  a  military  school ;  since  when, 
by  the  aid  of  some  unknown  friend,  he  had  been  advanced 
to  the  rank  and  station  he  now  held.  He  had  often  made 
inquiries  concerning  his  parents;  but  could  never  learn 
further,  than  that  they  were  supposed  to  be  dead,  and  that 
he  was  indebted  for  all  his  favors  to  a  strange  benefactor, 
whom  he  had  never  seen,  and  perhaps  never  would. 
Mio-ht  not  this  benefactor  be  Luther?  He  had  let  fall 
words  to  such  an  effect,  by  stating  that  he  knew  him  before 
he  knew  himself.  The  secret  was  doubtless  contained  in 
the  silver  box  which  that  wonderful  being  had  placed  in 
his  hands  ;  and  he  was  sorely  tempted  to  break  it  open 
and  know  at  once ;  but  the  request  to  the  contrary,  until 
Kate  should  have  become  his  wife,  restrained  him. 

Who  was  Luther  ?  and  how  did  he  manage  to  make  all 

■  fear  him,  and  bring  about  his  purposes  so  mysteriously? 

What  did  his  last  strange  words  portend  ?     And  Moody, 

too— if  he  was   indeed   his   brother,   although   he  amply 

merited  death,  how  much  rather  he  would  have  had  him 


180  KATE    CLAREXDON". 


live,  perhaps  to  repent  aRcl  reform.  But  it  was  too 
late  now.  He  was  gone.  He  had  perished  by  the  hand 
of  another ;  and  even  now  his  mutilated  remains  might, 
perchance,  be  lying  on  the  rocks  below. 

As  these  thoughts  passed  rapidly  through  the  mind  of 
Stanley,  he  approached  the  spot  where  Moody  was  last 
seen  by  the  party  at  the  cave,  and,  taking  hold  of  some 
stunted  bushes  that  grew  upon  the  verge  of  the  chasm, 
endeavored  to  peer  down  into  the  gloomy  abyss.  It  was 
still  too  dark  to  see  aught,  save  here  and  there  a  fire-flash 
of  the  water,  as  it  dashed  over  the  rocks,  and  sent  up  its 
hollow  roar ;  and  Egbert  quickly  drew  back,  with  a  shud- 
der. As  he  did  so,  a  soft  hand  was  laid  upon  his  arm. 
He  turned,  and  beheld  the  idol  of  his  heart,  the  lovely 
Kate  Clarendon,  standing  by  his  side,  her  features  pale 
and  sad,  and  her  eyes  slightly  dimmed  by  a  pearly  tear. 

"Ah!  dearest,"  exclaimed  Egbert,  throwing  an  arm 
around,  and  drawing  her  to  his  beating  heart;  "you  are 
troubled ;  I  can  see  it  in  your  sweet  countenance." 

"I  was  thinking  of  my  dear,  dear  mother,"  returned 
Kate,  simply ;  and  unable  to  control  her  emotion  longer, 
she  buried  her  head  upon  the  breast  of  him  she  loved,  and 
wept  freely. 

Stanley  was  moved,  and  it  was  some  time  ere  he  could 
command  his  own  feelings,  so  as  to  answer  calmly. 

"Do  not  weep,  dearest,"  he  said,  at  length;  "your 
mother  is  now  an  angel  in  Fleaven." 

"  I  know  it,"  rejoined  Kate,  with  a  fresh  burst  of  grief. 
"  She  is  better  off  now,  "than  when  in  this  cold  world  of 
sorrow;  but  then  it  is  so  hard  to  part  from  those  we 
love." 

"It  is,  indeed,"  returned  Stanley,  sadly,  gazing  upon 
her  with  a  look  of  affection,  and  thinking  of  the  moment 
when  he  might  be  called  to  part  from  her,  or  she  from  him, 


A   SEARCH   FOR   THE   BODY.  181 

by  tlie  same  woful  messenger,  death.  "  It  is  indeed  hard 
to  pavt  from  those  we  love,  dear  Kate  ;  and  God  send  the 
time  be  far  distant,  ere  it  be  the  trial  of  either  of  us  again ! 
But,  dearest  Kate,"  he  pursued,  consolingly,  "even  had  na- 
ture taken  its  course,  you  would  soon  have  been  an  orphan ; 
and  you  should  try  to  be  resigned,  that  your  mother  has 
escaped  all  the  anguish  of  a  lingering  death  of  pain. 
Though  horrible,  her  death  was  easy ;  -and  her  sweet  spirit 
winged  its  flight,  without  knovying  the  cause  that  separated 
it  from  its  clayey  tenement." 

"I  do  try  to  be  resigned,"  Kate  replied;  "but  still, 
dear  Egbert,  I  must  grieve,  and  weep,  for  I  am  only  a  poor 
human  being  after  all." 

"  In  that,  of  course,  you  do  but  what  is  right,"  said  Eg- 
bert, tenderly  ;  *'  and  tears  are  a  great  relief  to  the  over- 
charged spirit."  Then,  musing  for  a  moment,  he  resumed: 
*'I,  too,  feel  somewhat  sad.  I  have  been  pondering  over 
various  matters ;  and  at  the  moment  when  you  touched  my 
arm,  I  was  peering  down  the  chasm,  expecting  to  behold  my 
brother's  remains — but  it  was  too  dark." 

"  Oh,  do  not  call  him  brother !"  said  Kate,  earnestly ; 
"  do  not,  dear  Egbert !  for  he  was  everything  that  is 
wicked  and 'base;  while  you,  on  the  contrary,  are  every- 
thing that  is  noble  and  good.  I  am  sure  you  cannot  be 
brothers;  I  will  not  have  you  so." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Stanley,  musingly;  "  it  is  all 
very  mysterious.  He  was  a  dark  man,  it  is  true — a  terrible 
man — a  man,  in  fact,  of  crime  and  blood;  but,  whatever 
his  crimes,  he  is  now,  most  probably,  before  that  Great 
Tribunal,  where  he  will  have  to  answer  for  himseh^  and  be 
judged  accordingly.  I  ought  not  to  forgive  him  ;  and  yet 
my  heart  rather  yearns  to  do  so.  I  saw  him  last  night  in 
my  dreams  ;  and  methought  he  had  repented,  and  called 

16 


182  KATE    CLARENDO^^ 


me  brother.  I  awoke,  feeling  sad ;  and  without  saying  a 
word  to  any,  I  arose  and  came  hither." 

"I  saw  you,"  replied  Kate;  "for  when  the  sentinel 
.spoke,  I  had  been  long  awake ;  and  I  rose  and  followed 
you." 

"  You  did  not  rest  well,  then,  ray  dearest  Kate  ?" 

"  But  indifferently,"  replied  the  other  ;  "  for,  between 
my  hard  bed,  and  ten  thousand  thoughts  that  came  crowd- 
ing one  after  another  upon  me,  I  was  not  long  in  the  arms 
of  Morpheus." 

"  I  fear  you  will  not  be  able  to  endure  the  journey,  after 
such  a  feverish  rest." 

'  Oh,  I  think  I  shall,  for  I  am  strong  and  well." 

"  By  the  way,  dearest,  tell  me  how  you  came  here, 
what  became  of  the  savages,  and  what  happened  after  I 
saw  you?" 

"  I  was  conducted  here  by  Moody  ;  what  became  of  the 
Indians,  I  do  not  know  ;  and  what  happened,  I  will  tell 
you  some  other  time ;  for  I  see  our  friends  are  coming  this 
way." 

As  she  spoke,  Kate  pointed  towards  the  mouth  of  the 
cave;  and  turning,  Stanley  perceived  Danvers,  David,  and 
Ichabod  issuing  therefrom. 

"A  beautiful  day,  for  our  homeward  journey,"  remarked' 
Danvers,  approaching  the  lovers. 

"It  is,  indeed,"  answered  Stanley;  "  and  I  trust,  ere 
night,  we  shall  once  more  be  safe  among  our  friends." 

"  Had  we  not  better  partake  of  some  refreshment,  and 
set  out  as  soon  as  possible?"  asked  Danvers,  in  reply. 

"  There  is  a  very  heavy  dew,"  answered  the  young  officer, 
"  and  the  bushes  are  very  wet ;  so  that  perhaps  we  had 
better  wait  until  the  sun  has  well  risen.  I  think  we  shall 
then  have  sufficient  time ;  for  although  Luther  led  us  a 
long  way,  I  do  not  think  we  arc  more  than  twenty-five,  or 


A    SEARCH    FOR    THE    BODY.  18; 


o 


at  most  thirty,  miles  from  the  settlement,  by  the  course  of 
the  river." 

"Well,  as  you  like,"  rejoined  Danvers ;  "  though,  for 
one,  I  am  anxious  to  be  moving;  for  we  do  not  know  what 
may  happen  if  we  stay  here." 

"  Have  you  any  reason  to  think  the  place  unsafe  ?"  in- 
quired Kate,  rather  anxiously. 

"Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Danvers.  "It  is  most 
probably  known  to  the  Indians  ;  and  they  may  come  hither 
in  search  of  Moody — which  result,  to  say  the  least,  would 
be  unpleasant." 

"True,"  answered  Stanley,  musingly:  "You  are  right, 
Danvers;  I  did  not  think  of  that.  Upon  second  thoughts, 
perhaps  we  had  better  leave  at  once." 

"  Second  thoughts  is  generally  the  wisest,"  put  in  David, 
coming  up  to  the  party,  in  company  with  Ichabod. 

"  Then  you,  too,  think  it  not  safe  here  ?"  said  Kate, 
addressing  the  scout. 

"Don't  know,  o'  course,"  replied  David;  "but,  some 
how,  I  can't  git  it  out  o'  my  head,  that  Moody  aren't 
dead." 

Each  started,  and  turned  toward  the  speaker  a  look  of 
inquiry. 

"  Fact!"  returned  David,  quietly. 

"  What  reason  have  you  for  so  thinking  ?"  queried  Stan- 
ley, in  a  manner  that  showed  he,  too,  might  think  it 
possible. 

"Can't  give  no  reason,"  answered  David ;  "  unless  it  3 
cause  he  seemed  to  have  as  many  lives  as  a  cat,  and  that  I 
dreampt  about  'im  last  night." 

"  And  pray  what  did  you  dream  ?" 

"  That  he'd  got  awa}^,  and  had  all  the  Injings  arter 
us." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  can  be,"  rejoined  Danvers ;  "  for 


184  KATE    CLAKENDOI^. 


if  not  mortally  wounded  by  the  fire  of  Ichabod,  I  think  his 
fall  must  have  done  the  rest." 

*'  May  be  you  forgit  how  he's  mixed  up  with  the  Necro- 
mancer," observed  the  scout,  glancing  round  him  cautiously, 
in  a  way  to  show  that  he  at  least  was  not  devoid  of  a  feel- 
ing of  superstition,  common  to  most,  particularly  the  un- 
educated, of  that  day.  ''  Blind  Luther,  you  know,  wanted 
to  save  him ;  and  I  'spect,  from  what  I  seed  of  him,  that  he 
could  do  it,  easy  enough." 
Stanley  smiled. 

"  Do  not  give  him  more  power  than  he  would  claim  for 
himself,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  calculated  to  dispel  all  fears 
on  that  point.  "  Luther  has  said  he  was  nothing  more 
than  mortal,  and  I  believe  him  ;  though  I  own  some  of  his 
doings  look  a  little  mysterious;  but  doubtless  they  could 
all  be  accounted  for  very  simply." 

"  May  be  you  can    account  for  'em,    then,"    rejoined 
David,  somewhat  testily:  "I  can't." 
"  Nor  I,"  said  the  gardener. 

By  this  time  the  rest  of  the  party  had  joined  the  speak- 
ers ;  and  learning  the  subject  of  their  conversation,  most 
of  them  took  sides  with  the  scout. 

"  At  all  events,"  said  Danvers,  who  seemed  a  little  stag- 
gered, and  hardly  knowing  which  side  to  join,  though  rather 
inclined  to  take  part  with  Stanley  :  "  At  all  events,  if  we 
can  see  his  body  lying  on  the  rocks  below,  we  may  believe 
our  eyes." 

"  Yes,  if  you  can  find  'im  there,  I'll  gin  in,"  returned 
David;  "but  take  my  word  for  it,  you  won't." 

"  I  looked  down  a  short  time  since,"  observed  Stanley ; 
-'but  it  was  then  too  dark — it  is  lighter  now." 

In  fact,  day  had  been  steadily  advancing,  and  the  dull 
gray  of  morning  had  already  given  place  to  a  clear,  sober 
light,  by  which  each  object  could  be  distinctly  seen.     The 


A   SEARCH   FOR   THE   BODY.  185 

crimson  of  the  east  had  gradually  changed  to  a  more  bright 
and  yellow  hue,  and  there  was  conclusive  evidence  that  the 
great  luminary  of  the  day  would  soon  show  his  welcome 
visage  above  the  eastern  horizon.  Each  of  the  party,  Kate 
excepted,  now  approached  the  verge  of  the  abyss,  and  cau- 
tiously peered  down  into  the  chasm.  The  light  here  was 
dim,  but  still  sufficient  for  the  purpose  required.  A  small 
pool  was  immediately  under  them,  into  one  part  of  which  fell 
the  cascade  before  mentioned,  with  a  sort  of  gloomy  roar. 
The  outlines  of  the  rock,  on  which  Moody  had  held  his 
soliloquy,  could  also  be  traced — appearing  in  the  meagre 
li^ht,  to  the  excited  imao-inations  of  most,  as  the  demon  or 
evil  genius  of  the  place — beyond  which  the  water  foamed, 
and  rushed,  and  roared  continually.  Besides  these,  no- 
thing of  importance  could  be  noted,  save  that  the  rocks  on 
either  side  were  almost  smooth,  perpendicular,  and  slimy. 

*'He  is  not  there,  at  all  events,"  said  Danvers,  as,  after 
gazing  down  some  five  minutes,  he,  with  most  of  the  party, 
drew  back. 

"I  told  ye  so,"  returned  David,  triumphantly.  "He's 
gone,  and,  afore  you  know  it,  will  have  the  Injins  upon  us, 
sure  as  cats  jump  for  game." 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  said  Stanley.  "  Tha-t  we  cannot 
see  his  body,  is  no  evidence  he  is  not  dead." 

"  But  'sposing  we  could  see  his  body  there,  it'd  be  the 
best  evidence  that  he  aren't  nowhere  else,"  rejoined  David 
— who,  having  got  the  notion  in  his  head,  and  being  of  a 
rather  dogged  disposition,  was  now  fully  determined  that 
Moody  should  be  alive,  that  he  might  prove  himself  correct 
in  his  surmises.  We  see  a  great  many  David  Grants  every 
day. 

"You  say  true,  David,"  answered  Stanley,  smiling, 
"  that  if  the  body  of  my  brother,  as  Luther  called  him, 
were  there,  it  ATOuld  not  be  elsewhere;  but  I  am  astonished, 


186  KATE    CLARENDOX 


David,  that  a  man  of  your  reputation  as  a  scout,  should 
resort  to  a  logic  so  shallow,  to  conceal  what  your  good 
sense  tells  you  is  the  true  state  of  the  matter.  -  That  Moody 
is  not  there,  every  one  can  see ;  and  that  he  could  not  be 
there,  you  know  as  well  as  I ;  for  no  dead  body  could  lor.g 
remain  stationary  in  that  rushing  current.  If  you  follow 
down  the  stream,  you  will  doubtless  find  his  remains  some- 
where, and  dead  enough  in  all  conscience." 

David  hung  his  head,  a  little  ashamed;  for  he  saw  at 
once  that  his  shallow  reasoning  was  not  likely  to  give  him 
any  extra  reputation  for  wisdom  ;  yet  determined  not  to 
yield  the  point  too  easily — or,  in  sooth,  until  forced  from 
it  by  stubborn  fact — he  replied,  a  little  sullenly : 

"  As  I'd  like  to  be  sure  he's  dead,  may  be  it  'd  be  no 
harm  in  looking  along  further  down." 

^'iVgreed,"  said  Stanley;  who,  for  two  reasons,  wished 
to  find  the  body  of  his  brother.  First,  to  destroy  that 
superstitious  fear,  which  he  now,  to  his  regret,  perceived 
•was  fast  getting  a  hold  on  the  minds  of  all,  Danvers  not 
excepted ;  and  secondly,  that  he  might,  in  a  rude  way,  give 
him  Christian  burial. 

"Kate,"  he  continued,  turning  to  her,  "you  had  better 
go  into  the  cave  and  take  some  refreshment." 

"But,  dear  Egbert — "  began  Kate,  timidly. 

"  Have  no  fears,  sweet  one ;  we  are  only  going  a  short 
distance,  to  search  for  the  body  of  Moody,  and  will  soon 
return.  Besides,  Ichabod,  here,  will  stay  and  keep  you 
company." 

"  Oh,  most  sartainly,"  answered  the  gardener,  his  small 
eyes  brightening  with  delight ;  "  nothing  couldn't  suit  me 
better ;  and  I'll  go  with  my  little  pet  straightway." 

As  no  further  objection  was  preferred  by  Kate,  Stanley 
now  ascended  the  difficult  path,  which  led  up  the  brow  of 
the  cliff,  followed  by  David,  Danvers,  and  the  others  in 


A    SEAHCII    rOR    THE   BODY.  187 

silence.  Reaching  the  pLatform  before  noticed,  the  party 
at  once  leaped  across  the  narrow  chasm  on  the  opposite 
side,  and  kept  along  the  hill  for  some  two  hundred  yards, 
when  they  came  to  a  spot  sufficiently  shelving  to  enable 
them  to  descend  to  the  plain  below.  This,  however,  was 
not  their  immediate  design — that  being  to  approach  the 
stream  at  the  foot  of  the  precipice,  and  continue,  if  possi- 
ble, along  its  margin,  so  as  to  note  distinctly  every  object 
in  its  bed.  In  a  few  minutes  the  brink  of  the  stream  was 
gained,  at  the  point  where  the  second  cascade  was  formed, 
and  where,  it  will  be  remembered,  Moody  had  such  a  narrow 
escape.  A  large  rock,  which  here  jutted  in  toward  the 
opposite  bank,  almost  over  the  falls,  allowed  such  as  chose 
to  venture  out  upon  it,  a  complete  view  of  the  current  from 
the  lower  to  the  upper  cascade,  and  also  the  whole  extent 
of  the  stream  below  the  falls  to  the  plain,  where  it  again 
became  lost  in  its  serpentine  course  toward  the  Little 
Miami. 

''  Well,  what  do  you  think  now  ?"  asked  Stanley  of  the 
scout,  as  with  the  latter  he  ventured  upon  the  rock,  and 
made  an  examination  with  his  eyes  in  both  directions. 

"  Why,  I  think  we  ha'n't  found  the  body  yet,"  replied 
David  laconically. 

"  True ;  but  don't  you  see  there  was  no  chance  for 
Moody  to  escape  with  life  ?  The  rocks  above  here  are 
precipitous  and  slippery — so  that  it  is  impossible  he  should 
have  ascended  them,  even  if  he  escaped  with  life  in  the 
first  instance  ;  and  certainly  no  sensible  man  would  contend 
that  he  could  go  over  this  fall  and  not  be  dashed  to  pieces 
on  those  frowning  rocks  below." 

It  did  in  truth  appear,  viewing  the  spot  from  where  our 
party  stood,  as  if  no  being  could  pass  the  cascade  and  sur- 
vive the  fall ;  for  the  pool,  into  which  it  will  be  remembered 
Moody  descended,  was  very  small — the  depth  they  could 


188  KATE   CLAREXDOX. 

not  know — and  entirely  surrounded  by  black  rocks,  on 
which  much  of  the  water  fell  with  a  force  sufficient  to 
throw  a  fine  spray  to  the  distance  of  several  feet.  We 
can  only  account  for  this  small,  deep  pool,  by  supposing 
that,  at  one  time,  the  water  fell  directly  into  it ;  and  the 
earth  just  at  that  spot,  not  being  protected  by  rocks,  as 
was  the  case  elsewhere,  had  gradually  been  hollowed  out, 
and  so  remained  ;  while  the  running  water,  wearing  away 
the  precipice  over  which  it  tumbled,  had  thus  caused  it  to 
recede  several  inches. 

"  Don't  know  about  passing  the  falls,"  said  David,  rather 
doggedly,  in  reply  to  Stanley,  after  having  gazed  upon  the 
spot  until  he  felt  satisfied  himself  that  the  young  officer 
was  right :  "  Don't  know  about  the  falls,  one  way  or  t'other; 
but  all  I've  got  to  say  is,  I'd  just  like  to  see  the  body." 

"Do  you  know,  David,"  said  Stanley,  smiling,  "  that  I 
think  you  would  make  a  good  preacher !" 

"  How  so,  lieutenant  ?" 

"  Because  you  would  be  bound  to  stick  to  your  text. 
Why,  man,  if  you  had  never  shown  any  more  sense  in  the 
forest,  than  you  have  in  this  matter,  instead  of  being  called 
a  great  scout,  you  would  have  been  devoured  by  wolves." 

Several  of  the  party  laughed,  at  David's  expense,  who 
merely  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You 
will  see  in  time  who  is  right." 

"Well,"  pursued  Stanley,  "as  the  body  is  not  here- 
abouts, we  will  search  for  it  below,  on  the  plain;  and 
speedily,  too — for  I  see  the  sun  is  peeping  over  the  hill 
yonder,  and  we  must  soon  be  on  our  journey  homeward." 

The  party  now  descended  to  the  plain ;  and  in  a  few 
minutes  were  deeply  engaged  in  searching  along  the  banks 
of  the  stream,  for  the  body  of  one,  who,  even  at  that  mo- 
ment, was  plotting  there  own  destruction.  They  had  entered 
a  swamp  thicket,  where  the  water  moved  sluggishly — and 


A    SEARCH   FOR    THE    BODY.  189 


each  was  engaged  with  a  pole  in  raking  the  bottom  for  the 
body,  which  they  supposed  must  have  sunk  there — when 
suddenly  a  faint  scream  was  heard  in  the  distance ;  and,  at 
the  same  moment,  ere  any  one  had  time  for  thouo-ht  or 
action,  fierce  yells  resounded  on  all  sides,  and  each  found 
himself  in  the  grasp  of  a  powerful  savage. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   RENEGADE   AND   HIS   FAIR   CAPTIVE. 

There  is  a  way,  a  secret  one, 
And  I  will  use  it. — Anon. 

With  wild  surprise, 
As  if  to  marble  struck,  devoid  of  sense, 
A  stupid  moment  motionless  she  stood. — Thomson. 

Come,  go  with  me !     I'll  show  the  road 

Which  you  perforce  must  travel.     No  choice 

Is  yours,  and  no  alternative.     You  are  my  prisoner. — Old  Play. 

We  left  the  Indians,  on  their  return  to  harass,  murder, 
or  capture  the  whites,  under  the  guidance  of  Moody.  As 
it  was  impossible  to  know  what  course  the  latter  party 
would  take,  on  leaving  the  cave — though  in  all  probability 
they  would  f#thwith  seek  the  plain — Moody  at  once  led 
his  Avarriors  to  a  dense  thicket,  where  they  might  be  able 
to  watch  the  movements  of  their  foes,  and  shape  their  pro- 
ceedings accordingly.  As  chance  would  have  it,  he  had 
selected  the  very  thicket  into  which  we  have  seen  our  friends 
venture  in  search  of  his  body — little  dreaming,  at  the  time, 
that  they  were  entering  an  ambuscade.  This  thicket, 
Moody  and  his  party  had  reached,  stealthily,  some  two 
hours  before  day-break;  when,  in  company  with  Unkee,  a 
renowned  scout  or  runner,  he  had  left  the  main  body  there, 
and  set  off  to  reconnoitre,  and  gain  intelligence  that  should 
determine  his  future  movements.  Fearful  lest  his  intended 
victims  might  have  already  escaped,  he  had,  at  some  lisk, 
approached  the  cave,  and  even  ventured  into  it  far  enough 
to  hear  the  tread  of  the  sentinel,  as  he  paced  to  and  fro  on 
his  patrol  of  duty.  Satisfied  that  all  was  working  to  his 
(190) 


THE   EEXEGADE   AND   HIS   FAIR   CAPTIVE.  91 


desire,  he  had  then  noiselessly  glided  away ;  and,  with  his 
Indian  companion,  had  sought  out  a  convenient  cover,  to 
await  daylight,  and  take  advantage  of  circumstances. 

Unlike  the  Indians,  who  in  general  have  little  to  say, 
Moody  knew  that  the  whites,  feeling  perfectly  secure, 
would  naturally  talk  over  their  plans,  before  proceeding  to 
put  them  in  execution.  Nor  had  he  been  mistaken.  From 
his  place  of  concealment,  on  the  brow  of  the  upper  preci- 
pice, which  the  reader  will  remember  walled  the  platform 
on  the  east,  he  had  been  enabled,  by  being  exactly  over  the 
mouth  of  the  cave,  not  only  to  see  every  one  that  came  out, 
but  also  to  understand  every  word  that  had  been  spoken 
outside.  AVith  infinite  deh'ght  he  had  heard  the  remarks 
of  David,  and  watched  the  party  searching  for  his  remains 
in  the  cliasm  below ;  and  when  the  proposition  had  been 
made  to  continue  down  the  stream  until  his  body  should  be 
found,  his  exultation  knew  no  bounds. 

"  They  shall  find  my  body,"  he  said  to  himself;  "  but  in 
a  different  form  and  place  from  what  they  expect." 

Then  turning  to  Unkee,  lie  briefly  recounted,  in  a  whis- 
per, the  substance  of  what  he  had  overheard  ;  and  directed 
him  to  inform  the  Indians,  and  caution  them  to  remain 
concealed  where  they  were,  until  the  whites,  as  he  foresaw 
they  would,  should  have  put  themselves  in  their  power. 

Just  as  Unkee  was  on  the  point  of  leaving.  Moody  heard 
Stanley  request  Kate  to  enter  the  cave,  with  only  Ichabod 
for  her  companion  ;  and  turning  once  more  to  the  savage, 
while  his  eves  gleamed  like  two  balls  of  fire,  at  his  antici- 
pated  feast  of  vengeance,  he  gave  him  orders  to  avoid  the 
whites,  and  return  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  there  to  await 
a  signal  from  him,  or  be  guided  by  circumstances — but,  do 
what  he  might,  in  no  case  to  harm  the  pale-face  maiden. 

Had  Moody  been  granted  the  privilege  and  power  of  ar- 
ranging every  thing  for  his  premeditated  vengeance  to  suit 


192  KATE    CLARENDON. 


himself,  he  felt  confident  he  would  have  failed  in  fixing 
matters  as  satisfactorily  as  a  simple  train  of  circumstances 
had  now  done  for  him.  Not  the  least  important  of  all,  was 
the  absence  of  Luther,  which  he  had  learned  from  the  con- 
versation, and  which^otherwise  must  have  disconcerted  his 
plans  materially. 

As  soon  as  Unkee  was  gone,  and  he  had  seen  the  party 
of  Stanley  on  the  point  of  starting,  he  withdrew  from  his 
place  of  concealment ;  and,  moving  along  the  ridge  of  the 
hill  a  short  distance,  descended  on  the  eastern  side,  some 
seventy-five  or  a  hundred  yards,  or  until  he  came  to  a  small 
cluster  of  bushes.  Here  he  paused  for  a  moment,  while  a 
grim  smile  played  over  his  features — and  then  parting  the 
bushes  with  his  hands,  he  exposed  to  view  a  hole  of  some 
two  feet  in  diameter,  that  apparently  led  deep  into  the 
earth.  Without  stopping  to  examine  this.  Moody  threw 
himself  flatwise  upon  the  ground,  and  soon  disappeared  into 
the  aperture.  The  descent  of  the  hole  was  just  sufficient 
to  render  his  movements  easy ;  and,  in  less  than  two  mi- 
nutes, he  had  penetrated  the  hill  some  fifty  feet.  Here  the 
aperture  gradually  enlarged,  and  he  was  shortly  enabled  to 
crawl  along  upon  his  hands  and  knees.  This  he  did,  some 
ten  feet  further,  when  he  came  to  a  sort  of  window,  that 
looked  directly  into  the  cavern  so  lately  occupied  by  our 
friends. 

Here,  then,  was  an  access  to  the  cave,  of  which  Stanley 
and  his  party  knew  nothing — otherwise,  the  disappearance 
of  Luther  might  have  been  accounted  for  without  setting 
the  natural  laws  of  reason  at  defiance.  Luther,  who  took 
advantage  of  every  circumstance  calculated  to  heighten  the 
superstitious  feeling  which  he  was  aware  pervaded  the 
minds  of  most,  had  doubtless  visited  this  place  before ;  and, 
knowing  of  this  outlet,  had  taken  this  means,  when  the  at- 
tention of  each  was  drawn  in  another  direction,  to  leave  his 


THE    RENEGADE   AND   IITS   FAIR    CAPTIVE.        193 


friends  in  his  usually  abrupt  and  mysterious  manner.  Had 
he  not  known  of  this  outlet,  it  is  hardly  probable  he  would 
have  found  it  so  opportunely ;  for  being  in  a  distant  and 
dark  corner  of  the  cave,  ten  chances  to  one  but  it  had  been 
completely  overlooked  by  any  one  on  the  search  for  it — so 
nicely  did  the  aperture,  which  was  some  four  feet  above 
the  floor  of  the  cave,  blend  in  color  and  appearance  with 
the  solid  rocks  surrounding  it.  How  this  became  known  to 
both  Luther  and  Moody,  will  perhaps  forever  remain  a 
mystery. 

Stopping  at  this  aperture,  or  window — as,  from  its  shape, 
we  have  perhaps  more  appropriately  named  it — the  keen 
eyes  of  Moody  roved  around  the  dark  vault,  in  search  of 
Kate  and  the  gardener,  neither  of  whom  had  as  yet  made 
their  appearance.  From  his  position,  Moody  could  now  see 
everything  in  the  cave,  and  yet  himself  remain  unseen. 
This  was  owing  to  the  feeble  light,  which,  coming  through 
the  fissure  of  the  cave,  Vt'as  sufficient  to  illume  somewhat 
its  immediate  vicinity,  but  insufficient  to  remove  the  dense 
veil  of  darkness  behind  which  he  was  concealed. 

Nearly  half  an  hour  elapsed,  and  Moody  v.'as  becoming 
impatient,  when  voices  were  heard ;  and  presently  Kate  and 
Ichabod  appeared,  entering  the  cave  from  the  larger  and 
more  usual  outlet. 

"  Oh,  the  torch  is  out,"  exclaimed  Kate,  as  she  came  in 
view  of  the  interior ;  ''  and  it  seems  so  dark  and  gloomy 
here — let  us  go  back,  Icha." 

"  Better  stay  here,  my  little  pet,  until  they  comes  back," 
answered  the  gardener ;  "  'cause  he  said  so,  and  I  know  as 
how  you'd  like  to  mind  him ;  and  besides,  I  reckon  'tan't 
burnt  out,  and  I  can  light  it  agin  in  a  minute." 

"  Kever  mind,  Icha  ;  I  can  soon  get  used  to  the  darkness  ; 
in  fact,  I  can  see  a  little  now ;  and  it  is  better,  perhaps, 
that  we  remain  concealed,  in  case  anything  should  happen." 
13  IT 


194  KATE    CLARENDON". 

"  Why,  I  hope  you  don't  think  there's  any  danger,  my 
little  pet?"  rejoined  Ichabod. 

^' Why,  no,  I  hope  there  is  none — but  then  you  heard 
what  David  said." 

"  True,"  replied  Ichabod,  who  was  strongly  inclined  to 
believe  in  the  marvelous  :  "  True,  Miss  Kate,  I  heerd  what 
he  said,  and  it  made  me  feel  queer  at  the  time — 'cause  I 
remembered  as  how,  when  I  fired,  the  smoke  took  the  shape 
of  Luther ;  and  I  thought  maybe  he  was  a  spirit,  and  got 
away  in  that  way,  and  had  something  to  do  with  Moody. 
But  since  I've  thought  it  all  over,  I  know  it  couldn't  ha' 
been  so  ;  for  if  ever  I  shot  any  body  in  my  life,  it  was  that 
same  infernal  scoundrel  Moody." 

"I  am  not  superstitious,  Icha,"  answered  Kate;  "and 
consequently  do  not  fear  the  interference  of  Luther  in  any 
unnatural  manner ;  though,  I  must  own,  he  did  leave  here 
mysteriously ;  but  then,  in  all  probability,  there  was  a  way 
for  him  to  get  out  in  a  very  simple  manner ;  and  when  dear 
Egbert  returns,  (Kate  did  not  fear  to  apply  endearing  epi- 
thets before  the  simple-minded  gardener,)  I  intend  he  shall 
search  the  cave  for  another  outlet.  All  I  fear  is,  that 
Moody  might,  somehow,  have  managed  to  escape,  alone 
and  unaided,  and  that  he  will  return  with  the  Indians  to 
murder  or  make  us  prisoners." 

"  I  don't  generally  miss  my  mark,"  said  Ichabod,  in 
reply  ;  "  and  if  that  Necromancer  didn't  interfere,  I'm  sar- 
tain  I  killed  him — just  as  sartain " 

"  Hark  !"  interrupted  Kate,  holding  up  her  snowy  hand, 
and  bending  her  head  forward  in  a  listening  attitude  ; 
"  methought  I  heard  a  noise." 

"It  wasn't  nothing,  I  reckon,"  returned  the  gardener, 
after  a  short  pause,  during  which  he  had  listened  and 
peered  cautiously  about  him.  "  It  wasn't  nothing,  I  reckon, 
but  your   fears.     I've   often  got  skeered  the  same  way, 


THE    RENEGADE    AND    HIS   FAIR    CAPTITE.        195 

•svhen  I've  been  alone,  and  a  thinking;'  about  dans^er — 
though  I  never  knowed  anything  to  come  on't.  Well,  as 
I's  a  saying  'bout  that  villain  Moody,  I  know  I  killed  him, 
just  as  sartain  as— " 

"  I  kill  you  now,"  said  a  deep  voice  in  his  ear  ;  and  at 
the  same  moment  a  tremendous  blow  on  the  head  laid  the 
gardener  senseless  on  the  ground. 

Kate  uttered  a  terrible  scream,  and  sprung  back  in  real 
terror. 

"Moody!"  she  shrieked,  "can  the  grave  give  up  its 
dead  ?  are  you  really  flesh  and  blood  ?  or  do  you  hold  a 
charmed  life  ?" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  Moody,  triumphantly;  "and 
so,  my  pretty  bird,  I  have  caught  you  again,  have  I  ? 
AVell,  'every  dog  must  have  his  day,'  you  know." 

As  Moody  said  this,  he  walked  forward,  as  if  to  take 
hold  of  Kate,  who  retreated,  screaming,  "Help!  help!" 
in  the  most  pitious  tones  imaginable. 

"  Spare  your  lungs,  my  pretty  dove,"  said  Moody,  with 
a  coarse  laugh  ;  "  for  you  will  need  them  to  plead  for  your 
friends ;  besides,  screaming  is  hard  work,  and  can  do  you 
no  f!;ood." 

Saying  which,  he  darted  quickly  forward  and  grasped 
her  by  the  arm. 

"  Villain  I  unhand  me  !"  cried  Kate,  terrified  and  indig- 
nant. "  Unhand  me,  and  begone  !  or  there  will  soon  be 
those  here  to  make  you  tremble." 

"  Never  you  fear  for  me,  my  pretty  one  ;  I  am  perfectly 
avfare  of  what  I  am  doing,"  replied  Moody,  with  another 
coarse  laugh  ;  "  and  as  for  your  friends " 

"Well,  well — what  of  them?"  cried  Kate,  breathlessly, 
as  the  other  paused. 

"  They  are  by  this  time  all  dead,  or  prisoners,"  conclud- 
ed Moody,  with  another  laugh. 


106  KATE   CLARENDON. 


"  Oil,  God  !"  exclaimed  poor  Kate,  burying  her  face  in 
her  hands,  while  her  whole  frame  shook  convulsively. 

Moody  now  released  his  hold,  and,  folding  his  arms  upon 
his  breast,  stood,  for  some  moments,  regarding  his  terrified 
captive  in  stern  silence — during  which  time,  many  wild, 
dark  thoughts,  concerning  the  punishment  of  her  and  her 
lover,  passed  through  his  mind.  These  moments  had  nigh 
proved  his  last ;  for,  regaining  his  senses,  and  perceiving 
how  matters  were,  Ichabod  had  drawn  his  knife  from  its 
sheath;  and,  creeping  up  stealthily  behind  Moody,  was 
just  in  the  act  of  plunging  it  into  his  back ;  when  his  arms 
were  suddenly  grasped  from  behind,  the  knife  was  wrench- 
ed from  his  hands,  and  he  found  himself  the  prisoner  of  a 
fierce  savage. 

Moody  started,  turned,  and,  comprehending  all  at  a 
glance,  said,  quietly,  in  Shawanee : 

"Unkee,  you  have  saved  my  life,  and  I  shall  not  soon 
forget  it." 

"  Ugh  !"  returned  the  Indian.  "  Unkee  always  thought 
great  chief  more  guarded." 

'*  He's  only  a  squaw,"  returned  Moody,  contemptuously, 
pointing  to  Ichabod.  "  I  knocked  him  down  first,  and  then 
forgot  him.  True,  he  might  have  taken  my  life ;  and  so 
might  a  squaw,  with  the  same  opportunity.  I  must  deal 
with  him,  nevertheless ;  for  twice  has  he  shot  at  me  before 
this,  and  wounded  me  once  in  the  shoulder.     Bind  him, 

Unkee  !" 

The  Indian  proceeded  to  obey  his  superior,  with  that  sort 
of  dogged  coolness,  if  we  may  so  express  it,  which  one 
might  be  supposed  to  exercise  in  fastening  a  rope  to  a  log. 
Once,  and  once  only,  when  Ichabod  had  nearly  effected  his 
escape,  the  eyes  of  the  Indian  brightened  with  a  fierce 
gleam ;  and  his  hand,  involuntarily  as  it  were,  sought  his 
tomahawk ;  but  the  next  moment  his  countenance  assumed 


THE    RENEGAGE    AXD    HIS    FAIR    CAPTIVE.  107 

its  wonted  stolid  expression,  and  he  continued  his  occupa- 
tion as  coolly  as  ever. 

Since  quitting  Moody,  Unkee  had  obeyed  his  orders,  and 
returned  some  minutes  before.  On  cautiously  making  his 
appearance  in  the  vicinity  of  the  cave,  he  had  discovered 
Kate  and  Ichabod  conversing  together  outside — for,  as  the 
reader  is  aware,  they  did  not  immediately  enter  the  cave  on 
the  departure  of  Stanley — and  as  he  knew  that  to  be  seen  was 
to  give  the  alarm,  he  instantly  concealed  himself  where  he 
could  secretly  watch  their  movements.  He  had  seen  them 
enter  at  last ;  and,  after  waiting  what  he  conceived  to  be  a 
sufficient  length  of  time,  had  stealthily  followed.  At  the 
moment  when  he  gained  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  the  scream 
of  Kate  reached  his  ears.     The  rest  the  reader  knows. 

Having  crossed  the  arms  of  Ichabod  on  his  back,  secured 
them  there  with  strong  ligatures  of  deer-skin,  and  disarmed 
him  altogether,  Unkee  turned  to  Moody,  with  a  grunt,  as 
much  as  to  say,   "  What  next  ?" 

So  at  least  the  latter  interpreted  it,  and  answered : 

"  Keep  him  a  close  prisoner,  Unkee,  and  we  will  pre- 
sently join  our  companions." 

Then  turning  to  Kate,  who  still  stood  with  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands,  regardless  of  what  was  taking  place 
around  her,  he  added,  in  English,  somewhat  sternly : 

"  Come,  my  fair  beauty,  and  I  will  conduct  you  to 
your  friends,  and  then  I  will  tell  you  more." 

Kate,  who  knew  that  resistance  would  be  of  no  avail,  as 
would  neither  sighs,  tears  nor  prayers,  raised  her  face,  and 
exhibited  features  as  calm,  and  apparently  as  rigid,  as 
marble.  As  her  eye  for  the  first  time  fell  upon  the 
savage,  there  was  a  slight  start,  and  a  look  of  alarm  ;  but 
this  quickly  passed,  and  she  again  appeared  as  cold  and  in- 
different as  a  bronze  statue. 

Moody  gazed  upon  her  with  surprise — for  he  had  expect- 

17* 


198  *  KATE    CLAEENDOX. 


ed  to  hear  her  shriek  in  terror  ;  and  from  that  moment,  all 
his  former  plans  of  vengeance  were  changed  to  others,  that 
"would,  perhaps,  prove  none  the  less  agreeable  to  the  fair 
being  before  him.  Her  beauty,  heightened  as  it  was  by 
the  excitement  under  which  she  was  inAvardly  laboring,  and 
her  strono;  mind,  as  shown  in  her  manner  of  concealino-  her 
feelings,  revived  his  old  passion ;  and  he  had  already  de- 
termined that  she  should  grace  his  wigwam  in  the  capacity 
of  a  wife  or  squaw.  There  is  something  in  real  beauty, 
that  rarely  fails  to  appeal  to  the  passions,  if  not  to  the 
heart,  of  those  who  oppress  it ;  and  to  this,  it  is  more  than 
probable,  Kate  Clarendon  owed  her  honor,  if  not  her  life. 

Nothing  of  this,  however,  was  told  to  Kate  ;  who,  in  con- 
sequence, remained  in  terrible  suspense  as  to  what  would 
be  her  doom.  Turning  to  the  Indian,  Moody  motioned 
xiim  to  folloAV  with  his  prisoner  ;  and  then  taking  Kate  by 
the  hand,  with  something  of  more  respect  than  he  had 
formerly  displayed,  he  quietly  led  her  out  of  the  cave — 
she  making  not  the  least  resistance.  When  the  captors 
and  their  captives  had  gained  the  clear  sunlight — which 
now  fell  warmly  over  the  earth,  drying  up  the  dew,  and 
silvering  the  streams,  kissing  the  flowers,  and  making  the 
earth  appear  beautiful — Moody  motioned  with  one  hand 
for  Kate  to  ascend  the  rude  staircase  to  the  platform  above ; 
and  still  keeping  his  hold  with  the  other,  he  assisted  her 
up  the  difiicult  acclivity.  Unkee  and  his  prisoner  followed ; 
and  in  a  few  minutes  both  parties  stood  upon  the  point 
whence  they  could  command  a  view  of  all  below. 

Gazing  around  him,  and  settling  his  eye  at  last  upon  a 
particular  spot.  Moody  stood  for  a  moment;  and  then 
pointing  forward  with  his  finger,  as  if  to  indicate  the  way, 
he  led  Kate  across  the  chasm,  accompanied  by  the  other 
two,  and  all  together  descended  the  ridge  in  silence. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    IXDIAXS    AND    THEIR    PRISONERS. 

Ix  struggling  with  misfortune  lies  the  proof 
Of  virtue. — Shakspeare. 

Thou  shalt  behold  him  stretch'd  in  all  the  agonies 
Of  a  tormenting  and  a  shameful  death, 
His  bleeding  bowels,  and  his  broken  limbs, 
Insulted  o'er  by  a  vile,  butchering  villain. — Otway. 

We  left  Stanley  and  his  friends  in  a  rather  serious  pre- 
dicament, and  to  them  we  must  now  return.  The  atten- 
tion of  the  whites,  as  the  reader  is  aware,  was  solely 
directed  to  finding  the  body  of  Moody ;  and  this  will  ac- 
count for  their  being  taken  so  wholly  unguarded ;  though 
it  may  be  questioned  if  they  would  not  have  been  taken 
equally  by  surprise,  had  they  been  keenly  on  the  look-out 
for  savages — so  effectually  had  the  latter  secreted  them- 
selv'^s  in  the  thicket.  Had  they  suspected  an  ambuscade, 
however,  their  hands  and  weapons  would  have  been  ready 
for  the  conflict,  and  the  result  would  have  been  widely  dif- 
ferent from  what  it  was  in  the  present  case. 

There  were  nine  savages  in  all,  Unkee  being  away,  and 
seven  whites — every  one  of  whom  was  engaged  with  a  pole 
in  raking  the  river  at  the  moment  when  he  was  captured. 
This  the  Indians,  from  the  information  given  by  Unkee, 
had  anticipated,  and  had  laid  their  plans  accordingly.  As 
the  whites  approached,  each  Indian  singled  out  his  man — 
leaving  two  of  their  party  in  readiness  to  close  in,  in  case 
any  one  should  meet  with  more  than  his  match — or  fire 
upon  and  follow  the  fugitive,  in  case  one  of  the  other  party 

(199) 


200  KATE    CLARENDON. 


made  his  escape.  At  a  preconcerted  signal,  each  sprung 
forward,  and,  throwing  his  arms  around  his  antagonist, 
secured  him,  with  hut  one  exception,  without  a  single  blow 
being  struck  in  defence,  and  at  the  precise  moment,  too, 
when  the  scream  of  J^ate  announced  her  to  be,  as  was  after- 
ward ascertained,  a  prisoner  also. 

The  exception  alluded  to,  was  Stanley.  Possessing 
great  presence  of  mind,  no  sooner  did  he  hear  the  yells, 
and  feel  his  arms  grasped  from  behind,  than,  comprehend- 
ing how  matters  were,  he  made  a  feint  to  yield,  which 
threw  the  Indian  somewhat  off  his  guard ;  and  then  sud- 
denly bounding  forward,  he  cleared  himself  of  his  captor. 
In  an  instant  the  tomahawk  of  the  savage  was  gleaming 
before  his  eyes  ;  and  the  next  moment  it  would  have  been 
buried  in  his  skull,  had  not  his  great  dexterity  again  saved 
him.  Drawing  his  knife,  bending  his  head  forward,  and 
springing  to  the  Indian,  all  at  the  same  time,  he  avoided 
the  weapon  of  the  latter,  which  struck  beyond  him,  and 
buried  his  own  in  the  heart  of  his  foe.  The  Indian  uttered 
a  groan,  and  sunk  down  a  corpse.  Turning  as  quick  as 
lightning,  our  hero  saw  the  two  others  rushing  toward 
him,  weapons  in  hand.  The  foremost  was  two  paces  in  ad- 
vance of  his  companion  ;  and  hastily  drawing  his  pistol,  he 
shot  him  through  the  breast.  There  was  only  one  left  to 
contend  with — for  the  rest  were  engaged  in  mastering  the 
whites,  who,  perceiving  his  successful  resistance,  had  be- 
come very  refractory — and  taking  a  hasty  aim  with  his 
other  pistol,  the  3^oung  officer  pulled  the  trigger.  A  flash 
in  the  pan  saved  the  life  of  his  adversary ;  and  the  next 
moment  the  long  war-club  carried  by  Mugwa  laid  him  pros- 
trate on  the  earth. 

"  Ugh!"  grunted  the  chief,  as  he  bent  over  Stanley  to 
secure  his  hands,  speaking  in  tolerable  English ;  "  great 
warrior — make  good  Indian ;"  and  instead  of  a  cloud  of 


THE    INDIANS    AXD    TliElR    PRISONERS.  201 


anger,  the  face  of  this  savage  displayed  an  expression  of 
admiration  at  the  successful  daring  and  firmness  of  his 
captive. 

For  a  minute  or  two,  Stanley  lay  stunned  by  the  blow ; 
and  then  regained  his  senses,  only  to  find  himself  and 
friends  disarmed  and  bound,  with  their  hideous  captors 
standing  around,  and  gazing  upon  them  with  looks  of  sav- 
acre  exultation.  At  this  moment  he  thought  of  Kate,  and 
his  ancruish  may  be  better  imagined  than  described. 

The  Iijdians  now  conducted  their  prisoners  out  of  the 
thicket ;  and  selecting  a  spot  in  the  woods,  a  few  yards 
distant,  where  there  chanced  to  be  but  little  underbush, 
made  them  fast,  each  to  a  separate  tree ;  and  then  collected 
together  by  themselves,  apparently.to  deliberate  upon  their 
next  proceedings.  Presently  four  of  the  party  repaired  to 
the  thicket,  and  returned  with  the  two  dead  bodies — the 
Indian  shot  by  Stanley  having  just  breathed  his  last. 

Placing  the  dead  upon  the  ground,  side  by  side,  the 
whole  company  formed  a  circle  round  them ;  and,  taking 
hold  of  hands,  commenced  chanting  words  wholly  unintel- 
ligible to  our  friends,  who  gazed  upon  them  with  a  sort  of 
painful  curiosity. 

In  this  manner  some  five  minutes  passed,  without  a  word 
being  spoken  on  the  part  of  the  whites,  when  suddenly 
David  called  out : 

"  I  say.  Lieutenant !" 
.    "  Well  ?"  answered  Stanley. 

"  What  d'ye  think  'bout  the  'business  now?" 

"  Why,  what  should  I  think  ?" 

"  Don't  know — know  best  yourself;  but  have  you  con 
eluded  that  Moody's  living  yet?" 

"  Of  course  not.     It  is  impossible  he  should  have  es- 
caped the  peril  I  pointed  out  to  you." 


202  KATE    CLARENDON. 

"  Well,  then,  all  I've  got  to  say  is,  that  his  ghost's  got 
a  powerful  ffesh  and  blood  look." 

"  Good  heavens !  what  do  you  mean,  David  ?"  cried 
Stanley,  quickly;  while  every  one  turned  his  head — the 
only  part  of  his  person  now  at  liberty — toward  the  scout, 
anxious  for  an  explanation  of  his  startling  words. 

David  replied  only  by  nodding  his  head  mysteriously,  in 
a  certain  direction  ;  and  following  that  direction  with  their 
eyes,  the  faces  of  all  suddenly  blanched,  and  each  tongue 
uttered  an  exclamation  of*  surprise  and  alarm. 

Within  full  view  appeared  Moody,  approaching  the  In- 
dians, leading  Kate  by  the  hand,  and  followed  by  Unkee 
and  the  gardener. 

"  Great  Heaven!"  groaned  Stanley;  can  it  be  possible 
that  my  eyes  do  not  deceive  me — that  Moody  is  still  liv- 
ing— and  Kate,  sweet  Kate,  again  in  his  power  !" 

"  'Spect  if  you  don't  believe  your  eyes,  you'll  soon  have 
some  other  sense  that'll  give  you  a  powerful  inclination 
that  way,"  remarked  David,  rather  drily. 

"  I  do  not  understand  the  affair,"  said  Danvers.  "There 
IS  something  very  mysterious  in  his  escape." 

"I  jest  believe  it's  the  devil's  work,"  observed  another; 
"  and  that's  the  reason  Icha's  balls  wouldn't  kill.  If  ever 
I  get  a  chance  at  him,  I'll  put  in  some  silver  slugs,  and 
try  the  virtue  of  them." 

While  such  and  similar  remarks  were  passing  among  the 
whites,  Moody  and  his  party  approached  the  Indians.  As 
he  came  up,  they  made  a  pause  in  their  ceremony,  and,  ut- 
tering grunts  of  approbation  at  his  success,  opened  the 
ring  for  him  to  enter.  As  Kate,  whom  he  still  held  by  the 
hand,  came  suddenly  upon  the  dead  and  bloody  bodies  of 
the  Indians,  slain  by  the  hand  of  her  lover,  she  gave  an 
involuntary  start,  and  uttered  a  slight  exclamation  of 
horror.     Moody  seemed  taken  equally  by  surprise ;  for  his 


THE    INDIANS  AND    THEIR    PRISONERS.  203 


features  slightly  paled,  and  he  turned  his  face  quickly  to- 
ward the  chief,  "with  a  look  of  inquiry. 

"With  Unkee,  however,  it  was  different.  He  was  an  In- 
dian, and  had  been  taught  to  school  his  feelings  and  pas- 
sions, so  as  not  to  betray  surprise  at  anything — a  custom 
which  is  held  by  the  savages  to  be  a  great  virtue.  As  he 
came  up  to  his  dead  companions,  therefore,  he  looked  down 
upon  them  calmly,  without  changing  a  muscle,  as  though 
it  were  the  most  common-place  sight  in  the  world,  and  one 
he  had  expected  to  behold. 

"  Who  has  done  this  ?"  asked  Moody,  in  the  Indian 
dialect,  after  waiting  a  sufficient  time  for  Mugwa  to  make 
an  opening  remark. 

"  The  chief  of  the  pale-faces,"  replied  the  latter. 

A  sudden  gleam  of  ferocity  now  shot  athwart  the  dark 
features  of  the  questioner ;  and  laying  his  hand  upon 
a  weapon  in  his  belt,  he  rejoined,  quickly : 

"  Then  he  must  die." 

"  Let  my  brother  be  not  hasty,"  returned  Mugwa;  ''for 
the  fates  of  all  must  be  decided  by  council.  If  the  pale- 
face chief  be  doomed  to  die,  it  must  not  be  by  the  toma- 
hawk." 

"  True,  chief,"  answered  Moody,  with  a  grim  smile ;  "  I 
had  nigh  forgotten  your  pleasant  Indian  customs  of  the 
stake  and  torture." 

"  Mugwa  deems  him  worthy  of  them  all,"  pursued  the 
chief;  "for  he  is  a  great  brave,  and  no  Indian  warrior 
could  have  done  more.  The  chief  of  the  Piquas  could 
almost  call  him  brother,  too." 

This  was  alludins;,  in  a  rather  obscure  manner,  to  the 
design  which  had  previously  entered  the  head  of  the 
"  Bear,"  of  making  an  Indian  of  Stanley ;  and  was  thus 
thrown  out  as  a  sort  of  feeler,  to  learn  the  impression  it 


204  KATE    CLARENDOX. 

would  produce  upon  Moody.  As  he  heard  it,  the  outcast 
started,  and  exclaimed  vehemently : 

"  No,  Mugwa,  he  must  die  !"  The  next  moment  a  new 
idea  took  possession  of  his  brain  ;  and  he  added,  imme- 
diately, in  a  lower  tone — "  That  is,  perhaps  ;  I  will  see; 
I  will  consider,  Mugwa.  But  go  on  with  your  ceremony. 
I  would  join  you,  only  that  I  have  important  matters  to 
which  I  must  attend ;"  and  turning  away  abruptly,  he  led 
Kate  out  of  the  circle,  and  some  distance  apart  from  all. 

"  You  have  seen,"  he  began,  addressing  himself  to  our 
heroine,  and  nodding  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  circle 
of  savages. 

"  I  have,"  answered  Kate,  calmly. 

"And  you  still  see,"  pursued  Moody,  pointing  his 
finger  in  an  opposite  direction,  and  toward  the  captives. 

Kate  followed  the  motion  with  her  eyes,  and,  for  the 
first  time,  became  aware  of  the  capture  of  her  friends — 
of  the  complete  triumph  of  her  foes — and  in  a  moment  her 
heart  sunk,  her  features  grew  deadly  pale,  a  sudden 
nervous  weakness  seized  her,  and,  but  for  the  support  of 
Moody,  she  would  have  fallen  to  the  earth. 

Finding  the  Indians  by  themselves,  around  the  dead 
bodies  of  their  late  comrades,  and  no  new  scalps  at  their 
belts,  Kate  had  believed  that  a  skirmish  had  ensued,  in 
which  her  friends  had  been  victorious,  and  that  she  might 
look  for  a  rescue  at  any  moment.  But  now  the  case  was 
different ;  the  horrible  reality  had  broken  upon  her  like  a 
thunderbolt ;  they  were  all  prisoners — reserved  perhaps 
for  the  torture — and  all  in  the  power  of  the  arch-demon 
by  her  side,  from  whom  she  could  hope  for  no  mercy. 
Moody  watched  the  painful  expression  of  her  lovely  coun- 
tenance with  a  grim  smile  of  satisfaction ;  and  after  wait- 
ing till  she  had  somewhat  recovered  her  composure,  he  re- 
sumed : 


THE    INDIANS    AND    THEIR    PRISONEES.  205 


"  You  see  I  am  now  master  of  all.  "Were  you  in  the 
infernal  regions  of  the  damned,  you  would  not  be  more 
fully  in  the  power  of  the  arch-fiend,  than  you  and  your 
friends  are  now  in  mine." 

"I  am  aware  of  that,"  replied  Kate;  ''and  more — I 
think  the  comparison  aptly  made." 

"  That  may  or  may  not  be,  as  matters  turn  out,"  re- 
joined Moody,  drily.  "  I  have  led  you  hither,  away  from 
the  others,  to  tell  you  something  of  importance,  regarding 
yourself  and  friends,  and  from  your  replies  to  take  my 
cue  of  your  conduct." 

"  Say  on,"  returned  Kate. 

"You  noticed  those  dead  bodies  ?" 

"I  did." 

"  They  were  slain  by  the  hand  of  your  lover,  Lieutenant 
Stanley,  and,  according  to  old  Luther's  story,  my  once 

brother." 

Ac^ain  Kate  trembled,  her  features  grew  deadly  pale, 
and  she  fairly  gasped  for  breath. 

"  Well,  I  see  you  comprehend,"  resumed  Moody,  after 
another  short  pause  ;  "  and  I  am  glad  you  do,^as  it  will 
save  me  much  circumlocution  in  my  remarks.  Now  mark 
my  words.  As  soon  as  yon  ceremony  of  the  Indians  is 
over,  and  their  dead  are  buried  from  their  sight,  they  will 
proceed  to  hold  a  council,  regai'ding  the  disposal  of  their 
prisoners.  Now  you  know  something  of  Indian  nature— 
or  ought  to,  at  least— and  are  doubtless  well  aware  that, 
when  they  are  angry,  they  are  not  altogether  the  most 
mild  and*^ placid  creatures  which  the  world  has  ever  pro- 
duced. On  the  contrary,  their  customs  are  somewhat 
rough— particularly  when  they  decide  on  putting  a  captive 
through  the  interesting  ceremony  of  being  roasted  alive 
by  a  "slow  fire,  with  various  little  et  ceteras,  in  the  way 
of  amusement— such  as  shooting  powder   into   his  naked 

18 


206  KATE   CLARENDON. 

body — filling  the  flesh  with  resinous  splinters  and  setting 
fire  to  them — cutting  ofi"  his  ears  and  tongue — punching 
out  his  eyes,  and — " 

"  For  the  love  of  Heaven,  hold  !"  cried  Kate,  covering 
her  face,  and  shuddering  with  horror  at  the  terrible  pic- 
ture of  torture  drawn  by  the  outcast. 

"  I  merely  wished  you  to  comprehend  the  matter  in  full 
force,"  pursued  Moody;  "and,  as  I  perceive  you  do — 
why,  I  will  sketch  no  further.  Now,  as  your  lover  has 
been  guilty  of  a  certain  breach  of  etiquette — (Moody 
spoke  in  an  ironical  tone) — namely :  killing  two  Indians, 
after  being  seized  as  a  prisoner  himself — it  is  more  than 
probable  that  they,  on  trial,  will  sentence  him  to  the  inter- 
esting little  proceeding  I  just  mentioned,  and  at  which 
you  thought  proper  to  turn  away  your  face  in  holy 
horror." 

"  In  the  name  of  that  God  before  whom  you  must  soon 
be  judged  !  tell  me  what  you  ask — what  you  seek — that  you 
thus  me-ntally  torture  me?"  cried  Kate. 

"Ah !  now  you  speak  to  the  point,"  replied  Moody,  with 
a  grim  smile ;  "  and  I  will  answer  you.  In  the  first  place, 
know  that  your  lover  will  assuredly  be  condemned  to  the 
torture;  and  that  I,  and  I  alone,  can  save  him." 

"Well?"  ejaculated  Kate,  breathlessly,  fixing  her  eyes 
intently  upon  the  other. 

"  I  say,"  pursued  Moody,  "  I  can  save  him ;  and,  on  one 
condition,  I  will." 

"Name  it !"  gasped  the  maiden. 

"  That  you  will  swear  to  become  my  wife.  Kemember, 
now,  I  make  a  distinction:  wife,  not  mistress,  I  ask.  Re- 
member, too,  before  you  decide,  that  not  only  Stanley,  but 
all  your  friends  here,  are  in  my  power  as  well  as  yourself; 
and  that  if  I  choose,  I  can  have  them  put  to  the  torture 
before  your  eyes,  and  you  dishonored  before  theirs.     Re- 


THE   INDIANS   AND   THEIR   PRISONERS.  207 


member !  the  alternative  before  you  is  terrible.  I  will  say 
further.  If  you  become  my  wife,  by  your  own  free  consent, 
you  shall  always  be  treated  with  respect,  and  shall  be  pro- 
vided for  comfortably  during  my  life,  and  at  my  death 
shall  have  the  privilege  to  go  whither,  and  marry  whom, 
you  please.  To-day  I  make  you  this  proposal,  which  yes- 
terday I  would  have  scorned ;  and  the  whole  secret  lies  in 
the  revival  of  my  love,  or  my  passion,  (call  it  which  you 
will,)  for  you.  Do  not  decide  hastily.  I  will  give  you  a 
few  minutes,  alone,  to  think  upon  it ;  but  if  you  decide  in 
my  favor,  one  thing  you  must  bear  in  mind  :  You  will  have 
to  swear,  by  all  your  hopes  of  salvation  hereafter — by  all 
)  you  love  and  hold  sacred — by  everything,  in  fact,  that  can 
make  your  oath  binding — that  you  will  be  mine,  rescue  or 
no  rescue;  that,  in  short,  come  what  will,  you  will  follow 
me  and  my  fortunes  through  life;  and  that,  in  the  event  of 
your  breaking  this  oath,  you  solemnly  pray  the  Ruler  of 
the  universe  to  condemn  you  to  eternal  torments  in  the 
world  to  come." 

Saying  this.  Moody  turned  abruptly  away,  leaving  Kate 
standing  alone,  stupefied  with  horror  at  the  words  she  had 
just  heard  him  utter. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   REFUSAL. 

S?fEER  on,  and  show  your  scorn  !  f.r  any  fool 
May  sneer,  that  is  withal  a  coward. — •:•**-* 

By  heavens  !  the  die  is  cast; 

I  will  no  more — but  to  the  torture 

Instantly. — Purcell. 

"  I  GIVE  you  a  most  hearty  welcome,  my  old  comrades, 
to  your  new  abode  in  the  forest  of  my  red  brethren,"  said 
Moody,  with  mock  cordiality,  as  he  approached  the  cap- 
tives, waving  his  hand  in  a  salutatory  manner,  and  smiling 
hypocritically. 

*'Ah,  my  dear  brother,  how  fare  you?"  he  continued, 
coming  up  to  Stanley,  and  extending  his  hand,  apparently 
unmindful  that  the  other  could  not  return  the  compliment. 
"  I  am  so  delighted  to  see  you — upon  my  word  I  am. 
What !  won't  you  shake  hands  with  your  brother  ?"  he  add- 
ed, in  pretended  reproach,  stepping  back  a  pace,  and  sigh- 
ing sorrowfully.  "  Well,  well,  such  is  the  way  of  the  world 
— this  wicked  world.  Ah,  me  !  ah,  me  !"  and  he  shook  his 
head,  and  sighed  again. 

"Taunt  on — taunt  on!"  replied  Stanley.  "I  know  I 
am  in  your  power,  and  of  course  I  expect  no  mercy  at  the 
hands  of  so  base  a  coward." 

"  Now  you  wrong  me,  dear  brother — upon  my  word  you 
do  !"  rejoined  Moody,  laying  his  hand  in  mock  humility 
upon  his  heart.     "  I  mean  you  well,  I  assure  you." 

"Cut  these  cords,  then,  and  let  me  go,"  said  the  other. 

"  Ah  1  now  you  touch  a  tender  point.  Really,  nothing 
(208) 


TnE    REFUSAL.  209 


would  delight  me  more — but,  pardon  me,  you  sec  I  have  to 
consult  my  friends  yonder — (here  he  pointed  toward  the 
Indians) — whom,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  you  have  injured — 
doubtless  unintentionally — to  quite  an  alarming  extent." 

''•  Two  of  them,  I  doubt  not,  have  been  slighthj  injured 
by  ray  hand,"  returned  Stanley,  pointedly,  with  a  curl  of 
his  lip. 

'*  Ah  !  yes — true.  Really,  I  am  delighted  to  perceive 
you  comprehend  my  meaning — indeed  I  am  !"  pursued 
Moody,  with  the  gravity  of  a  parson. 

"You're  a  devil  in  human  shape,  if  ever  there  was  one,'* 
called  out  David,  from  a  neighboring  tree,  w^here  he  had 
overheard  the  taunts  of  Moody. 

"Better  keep  us  safe  while  you've  got  us,"  put  in  an- 
other; "for  if  ever  we  get  clear  agin,  with  you  in  our 
power,  I  swear  to  you,  the  nearest  tree  shall  serve  you  for 
a  gallows." 

"Really,  gentlemen,"  replied  the  outcast,  turning  to 
them,  smiling  maliciously,  but  continuing  his  hypocritical 
cant ;  "  you  do  me  too  much  honor — indeed  you  do.  All 
I  fear  is,  that  you  will  not  be  able  to  carry  your  sage  plans 
into  execution.  It  is  true,  I  will  assist  you  all  I  can ;  but 
then,  you  know,  I  am  only  a  poor,  weak,  human  being  after 
all,  and  am  liable  to  fail." 

A  few  muttered  maledictions  was  the  only  response  to 
these  taunting  gibes ;  and  turning  again  to  Stanley,  Moody 
resumed : 

"  Time  wears,  my  dear  brother ;  and  I  have  come  to 
speak  with  you  on  matters  of  the  most  grave  importance, 
touching  your  welfare." 

"Say  on,"  replied  Stanley. 

"  There  stands  one  yonder,"  continued  Moody,  pointing 
to  Kate,  who  still  remained  where  he  had  left  her,  motion- 
less as  if  rooted  to  the  spot ;  "  whom,  I  doubt  not,  you 
14  18* 


210  KATE   CLARENDON. 

highly  esteem.  There,  there,  dear  brother — don't  contra- 
dict me — I  may  saj,  I  know  you  prize  her  highly.  Well, 
in  that  you  are  cei-tainly  right ;  for  she  is  worthy  of  much 
esteem  ;  and  I  assure  vou  she  has  mine  to  the  full.  Now 
life,  I  have  been  led  to  believe,  is  sweet  to  every  one ;  and 
I  venture  to  say  you  are  not  an  exception  to  this  rule.  In 
consideration  of  this,  I  have  been  making  some  proposals 
to  3^onder  fair  maiden;  which,  if  she  accept,  I  trust,  by  my 
influence,  to  save  yours — although,  as  3'ou  are  well  aware, 
it  has  been  forfeited  by  your  imprudent  conduct,  in  killing 
two  of  my  friends." 

*'  Ha !  well !  what  did  you  propose  ?"  asked  Stanley, 
quickly. 

"  Why,  dear  brother — and  in  consideration  that  you  arc 
my  brother — which  I  verily  believe,  otherwise  you  could 
not  be  so  good  and  amiable — as  I  w^ish  to  have  no  secrets 
that  you  cannot  share  with  me,  I  will  tell  you.  Know 
then,  and  therefore,  that  my  former  passion  for  yonder  fair 
maiden — which  I  believe  is  antecedent  to  yours,  and  conse- 
quently righteous  by  priority — has  again  revived  in  a  Avon- 
derful  degree  ;  and  I  am  extremely  anxious  to  call  her  mine 
by  marriage.  Now,  as  an  inducement  for  her  to  take  this 
step — to  yield  her  consent  freely,  and  take  me  for  life  as 
her  lawful  husband — I  have  promised  to  save  your  life,  and 
set  you  free." 

"Villain!"  cried  Stanley,  his  features  glowing  with 
proud  indignation;  "base,  cowardly,  doubly  damned  vil- 
lain !  Sooner  would  I  suffer  death  a  thousand  times,  than 
have  her  united,  or  even  tJiinJc  of  uniting  herself,  with  such 
as  you !" 

As  Stanley  uttered  these^words,  in  a  fierce,  loud  tone — 
which  distinctly  reached  Kate,  roused  her  from  her  revery, 
and  decided  her  course  of  action — Moody  started,  a  terrible 
expression  passed  over  his  countenance,  his  eyes  gleamed 


THE    REFUSAL.  211 


like  an  angry  serpent's,  and  instinctively  his  hand  sought  a 
weapon  in  his  belt.  The  next  moment,  by  a  sudden  and 
powerful  effort,  he  partially  succeeded  in  suppressing  this 
show  of  passion,  and  resuming  his  former  hypocritical  look 
and  cant.  We  say  partially ;  for  so  much  of  passion  was 
mingled  with  the  effort  to  appear  perfectly  serene  and  un- 
moved, as  to  render  his  appearance  somewhat  ridiculous. 

"  You  forget,  dear  brother,"  he  said,  with  something  be- 
tween a  sneer  and  a  smile,  "  that  the  death  you  so  nobly 
speak  of  suffering,  will  be  attended  with  considerable  incon- 
venience, not  to  say  pain  ;  for  the  death  at  the  stake,  which 
I  assure  you  will  be  yours,  is  not  the  easiest  imaginable,  as 
doubtless  you  are  well  aware.  Besides,  it  is  a  dreadful 
thing  to  die  so  young,  and  with  such  brilliant  prospects 
before  you ;  for  I  see,  by  your  glittering  uniform,  you  are 
already  on  the  road  to  fame.  If  the  words  of  Blind  Lu- 
ther be  true,  fortune,  and  some  great  name,  are  perhaps 
within  your  grasp  also ;  and  is  it  not  a  pity  to  exchange 
all  these  for  the  burning  stake — to  have  your  ashes  scat- 
tered to  the  winds — simply  for  a  trifling  matter  of  will  ?  or 
because  you  cannot  deny  yourself  the  charms  of  one  simple 
maiden  ?  as  though  the  world  could  not  substitute  thousands 
more  fair  and  lovely." 

"  What  is  it  you  aim  at  ?  what  would  you  have  ?"  asked 
Stanley,  angrily.  "  Have  you  not  the  girl,  as  well  as 
myself,  in  your  power?" 

"  True,  but  I  wish  your  consent.  I  know,  by  force,  I  can 
do  with  you  both  whatsoever  I  please ;  but  I  do  not  wish  to 
resort  to  compulsion.  A  few  words  from  you,  can  per- 
suade Kate  to  become  my  wife ;  and  I  swear  to  you  the 
marriage  shall  be  solemnized  by  a  priest." 

"I  thought,"  said  Stanley,  fastening  his  eye  sternly 
upon  Moody,  "  I  thought,  at  first,  that  you  were  simply 
trying  to  taunt  me  with  the  words  you  have  uttered ;  but 


212  KATE   CLAEENDO>r. 

I  feel  convinced  now,  that  you  are  in  earnest.  Therefore, 
listen  !  I  have  weighed  the  matter  fully,  while  you  have 
been  speaking,  and  this  is  my  decision :  Sooner  than  ask, 
or  allow,  Kate  Clarendon  to  become  your  wife,  I  would 
suffer  patiently  all  the  tortures  you,  or  the  red  heathen 
yonder,  can  inflict — so  help  and  support  me  God !  Go ! 
you  are  answered,  and  your  presence  offends  my  sight." 

'* Egbert!  dear  Egbert!"  now  cried  the  sweet  voice  of 
Kate,  who  had  silently  approached  the  party,  unseen  by 
either  Moody  or  Stanley;  and  rushing  forward  as  she 
spoke,  she  threw  her  arms  around  the  neck  of  her  lover, 
and  burst  into  tears. 

"  God  bless  you,  dearest!"  said  the  young  officer,  with 
emotion,  pressing  his  lips  to  her  brow,  and  making  a  bold 
but  vain  attempt  to  free  his  arms.  ^'  God  bless  you,  dear 
Kate,  for  this!  though  I  am  pained  to  meet  you  here." 

The  face  of  Moody,  who  now  stood  glaring  upon  the  two, 
grew  black  with  passion.  At  length  he  spoke,  in  a  husky 
voice. 

"I  have  yet  to  hear  your  decision,"  he  said,  striding  up 
to  the  grief-stricken  maiden,  and  laying  his  hand  somewhat 
roughly  upon  her  shoulder. 

Kate  started,  looked  around,  trembled,  grew  deadly  pale, 
and  then  turned  her  eyes  inquiringly  upon  Stanley. 

"  You  will  not  yield  to  his  base  proposal  ?"  said  the  latter, 
eagerly. 

"  It  is  to  save  your  life,  dear  Egbert." 

"  Not  if  I  had  ten  thousand  lives  to  lay  down  in  such  a 
cause!"  exclaimed  Stanley,  vehemently.  "I  should  hold 
life  as  utterly  worthless,  gained  at  such  a  sacrifice,  dear 
Kate.  For  Heaven's  sake  !  do  not  yield  to  such  a  mon- 
ster !" 

"  But  the  torture,  dear,  dearest  Egbert  ?" 

''  The    torture — the  rack — any  thing — every   thing — I 


THE   REFUSAL.  213 


would  bear  all,  a  thousand  times,  rather  than  hear  you 
answer  so  base  a  villain  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Then  mj  decision  is  made." 

^' Your  answer  !"  cried  Moody,  almost  fiercely. 

''I  refuse,  sir!"  I  never  will  be  yours!  God  shield 
the  right,  and  help  me  through!" 

"  God  bless  you  for  those  cheering  words,  Kate  !"  ex- 
claimed Stanley,  joyfully.  "  Now  let  the  monsters  do  their 
worst;  I  can  die  content." 

The  countenance  of  Moody  now  assumed  the  look  of  a 
foiled  demon.  No  hypocritical  smile  was  there  now — no 
cant  upon  his  lips. 

"Away!"  he  shouted,  fiercely,  his  eyes  gleaming  with 
rage,  stamping  his  foot  upon  the  ground,  and  fairly  foam- 
ing at  the  mouth.     "  Away  !  and  meet  the  doom  you  seek." 

As  he  spoke,  he  rudely  tore  the  arms  of  Kate  from 
around  the  neck  of  Stanley,  and  half  dragged  her  to  a 
neighboring  tree,  to  which  he  hurriedly  bound  her  delicate 
limbs — she  uttering  no  scream,  nor  a  single  word  of  com- 
plaint. When  done.  Moody  turned  abruptly  around,  and 
strode  directly  toward  the  Indians ;  who,  their  ceremony 
being  over,  were  now  engaged  in  the  solemn  rite  of  burying 
their  dead  forever  from  their  sifrht. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

THE    COUNCIL   AND   THE   DOOM. 

Berrango.— I  tell  thee,  Yernardi,  I  am  for  death. 
He  must  not  live  1     Death  and  hell's  tortures 
Must  be  his  doom. 
Vernardi.— Then  be  it  so  !     I  yield  reluctantly.— Old  Play 

Fetch  hither  cords,  and  knives,  and  sulphurous  flames  ! 

He  shall  be  bound,  and  gashed,  his  skin  fleeced,  burnt  alive, 

He  shall  be  hours,  days,  years,  a-dying.— Nat  Lee. 

A  QUARTER  of  an  hour  elapsed;  and  still  the  captives, 
each  to  his  tree,  stood  fast  bound,  in  awful  suspense  re- 
garding their  fate,  undergoing  a  mental  torture  second  only 
to  that  of  the  stake— when  the  whole  party  of  savages, 
Moody  on  the  lead,  "was  seen  approaching  them. 

As  the  Indians  neared  the  prisoners,  the  latter  could 
discover — by  the  dark,  angry,  sinister  looks  of  all — that 
mercy,  that  diviner  attribute  of  the  brave  and  good,  formed 
no  part  of  their  rude  and  barbarous  creed.  When  they 
had  attained  a  close  vicinity  to  their  captives,  they  came  to 
a  halt,  and  for  a  moment  gazed  around  with  savage  feroci- 
ty. Without  going  nearer,  or  saying  a  word  to  any  of  the 
whites,  who  stood  regarding  them  in  gloomy  silence,  they 
began  to  collect  some  dry  sticks,  which  they  threw  into  a 
pile  and  set  on  fire.  Then  seating  themselves  around  it, 
the  pipe,  the  unfailing  accompaniment  of  an  Indian  council, 
was  produced  and  lighted,  and  passed  around  the  circle,  as 
on  the  occasion  previously  described. 

When  this  part  of  the  ceremony  was  over.  Moody  arose 

and  said : 

"brothers!  when  last  we  met  in  council,  it  was  at  the 

(214) 


THE  COUN'CIL  AND  THE  DOOM.        215 

request  of  him  Avho  now  addresses  jou.  lie  tlien  told  yoa 
a  good  tale,  which  you  yourselves  have  proved  to  bo  true. 
He  told  you,  that  many  scalps  or  many  prisoners  v/ere  on 
the  southern  path.  You  believed  him,  and  you  turned 
back  ;  for  the  rest,  look  around  you." 

Here  he  paused,  and  slowly  pointed  to  each  of  the 
prisoners,  individually ;  beginning  with  Stanley,  and 
ending  with  the  gardener,  who  now  stood  bound  to  a  tree, 
some  distance  from  the  others,  his  Indian  captor  having 
joined  the  council.     When  done.  Moody  resumed 

"  Brothers  !  behold  your  triumph  !  There  they  stand, 
bound  captives.  In  all,  Posetha  counts  nine  heads,  or  nine 
scalps.  He  looks  around  this  circle,  and,  including  him- 
self, can  only  count  nine  warriors.  There  were  two  more 
■when  his  red  brothers  turned  back.  Where  are  they  now  ? 
In  the  Indian's  heaven.  AYho  sent  them  there  before  their 
time  ?  Yonder  pale-face  chief.  Posetha  thinks  this 
enough.  He  should  die.  He  has  been  long  enough  upon 
the  war-path,  and  he  should  die.  The  shoulder  of  Posetha 
pains  him.  He  has  been  wounded.  Who  did  it  ?  Yonder 
miscreant  (pointing  to  the  gardener).  Three  times  has 
yonder  wretch  sought  Posetha's  life.  He  still  lives  to 
boast  it.  Posetha  thinks  he  should  die  also.  This  will 
make  his  party  the  strongest.  Otherwise,  there  will  be  a 
pale-face  to  every  red-man.  There  will  still  be  left  enough 
to  amuse  the  young  men,  the  squaws  and  papposcs  of  the 
Indians.  Posetha  gives  his  voice  for  the  speedy  torture  of 
the  two  he  has  named.  His  ears  are  open  to  hear  their 
cries  for  mercy.  His  heart  is  shut  to  that  mercy.  It  will 
please  him.  It  will  please  the  Great  Spirit.  Brothers  ! 
Posetha  has  spoken." 

By  a  ready  tact,  peculiar  to  his  nature.  Moody  had 
lear.ied  to  adapt  himself  to  the  manners  and  mode  of  speak- 
in<T  of  the  Indians.     When  haranguing  in  council,  unlike  his 


216  KATE    CLARENDON. 

usual  method  in  English,  he  made  his  sentences  simple  and 
short,  and  spoke  directly  to  the  point.  His  Indian  dialect 
•was  not  spoken  with  ease,  nor  very  fluently  ;  but,  with 
short  sentences,  he  always  managed  to  make  himself  dis- 
tinctly understood. 

As  he  took  his  seat  upon  the  ground,  he  ran  his  eye 
around  the  circle,  and  perceived,  by  their  looks  of  ferocity, 
their  flashing  eyes,  that  his  sentiments  were  echoed  in  the 
breasts  of  nearly  every  savage.  We  say  nearly — we  might 
say  all,  with  the  exception  of  Mugwa,  the  chief.  It  will 
be  recollected,  that  the  bravery  of  Stanley,  even  in  slaying 
a  part  of  his  band,  had  won  his  admiration ;  and  a  design 
of  saving  his  life,  of  transforming  him  into  an  Indian,  had 
then  entered  his  mind,  and  had  not  yet  been  eradicated. 
With  regard  to  the  others,  he  was  ready  to  give  his 
voice  for  death ;  but'  Stanley,  from  some  strange  fancy,  he 
wished  spared. 

Moody  saw  at  a  glance,  that,  on  this  point,  he  would 
meet  with  decided  opposition  ;  but  he  trusted  to  a  majority 
in  his  favor  to  carry  the  day. 

Mugwa  was  the  next  to  speak.  Slowly,  with  dignity, 
he  rose,  and  gazing  round  upon  the  circle  of  warriors,  whom 
he  saw  were  all  attention,  at  length  began. 

'' Brothers!"  he  said,  "you  have  heard  the  wo^ds  of 
Posetha.  To  Mugwa  they  seem  wise,  and  not  wise.  Wise, 
when  they  tell  us  we  must  make  our  party  the  strongest — 
not  wise,  when  they  bid  us  sacrifice  the  pale-face  chief." 

Here  Mugwa,  although  no  one  interrupted  him,  saw,  by 
the  change  in  the  countenances  of  his  hearers,  that  he  had 
touched  upon  an  unpopular  theme ;  but  nothing  daunted, 
he  went  on. 

"  True,"  he  continued,  "he  has  slain  two  of  my  braves, 
and  menaced  the  life  of  Mugwa  himself — But  was  not  this 
done  in  his  own  defence  ?     Who  can  blame  him  ?     What 


THE  COUXCIL  AKD  TEE  DOOM.       217 

"R-arrior  among  you  does  not  admire  bravery  ?  It  is  a  great 
virtue.  It  comes  directly  from  the  Great  Spirit.  Had  he 
turned  like  a  coward  to  fly,  Mugwa  would  have  sent  a  ball 
to  bid  him  tarry.  Mugwa  would  ere  this  have  had  his 
scalp  drying  on  his  belt,  and  the  wolves  should  have  fat- 
tened on  his  carcass.  He  did  not  do  this,  though  sur- 
rounded by  enemies  he  knew  he  could  not  conquer.  He 
acted  the  hero  and  the  man.  Mugwa  admires  heroism. 
He  has  been  a  great  many  moons  upon  the  war-path.  His 
own  hand  has  slain  a  great  many  pale-faces.  He  is  brave. 
He  is  their  enemy.  The  proof  of  both  is  in  his  lodge. 
Who  thinks  Mugwa  boasts  without  cause — that  his  tongue 
is  forked — can  go  there  and  see.  Mugwa  loves  a  hero,  be 
he  red-man  or  pale-face.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  brave. 
Yonder  pale-face  chief  is  brave.  Mugwa  would  not  see 
him  bound  to  the  stake,  and  die  like  a  dog.  There  is  no 
gquaw*  in  him.  There  is  squaw  in  his  followers.  Take 
them.  There  are  enough  and  to  spare.  Mugwa  is  willing. 
But  why  select  the  bravest  ?  Why  select  him  who  fears 
not  death  ?  Mugwa  does  not  ask  to  set  him  free.  He 
would  take  him  home  to  his  nation,  and  let  them  decide. 
He  would  in  short  make  him  an  Indian.  He  is  worthy  to 
he  an  Indian,  He  would  teach  our  young  men  courage — 
our  warriors  wisdom.  Spare  him,  and  Mugwa  sanctions 
all  the  rest.     He  has  spoken." 

Here  the  chief  gravely  took  his  seat,  amid  a  profound 
silence.  It  was  evident  to  Moody,  who  watched  the  faces 
of  all  attentively,  that  the  arguments  of  the  Bear  had  made 
a  deep  impression  upon  their  minds,  and  that  the  scale 
would  assuredly  turn  against  him,  unless  the  weight  of  the 
next  speaker's  argument  was  thrown  in  his  favor.  With 
some  anxiety,  therefore,  he  waited  the  rising  of  the  next 

*  Signifying,  there  is  nothing  covravdly  or  feminine — a  word  of  con- 
tempt "with  the  Indian. 

19 


218  KATE    CLAREXDOX. 


orator.  On  him,  doubtless,  would  depend  the  triumph  of 
himself  or  Mugwa.  At  length  Unkee  started  to  his  feet ; 
and  Moody  at  once  felt  satisfied,  by  the  gleam  of  his  eye, 
that  he  would  side  with  him,  and  thus  his  triumph  would 
be  complete.     Nor  was  he  mistaken. 

"  Brothers !"  began  Unkee,  "  you  have  heard.  The 
words  of  the  great  chiefs  have  found  your  ears  open. 
They  have  entered  your  brains,  and,  not  being  alike,  have 
become  confused.  You  do  not  know  which  has  spoken  most 
wise.  You  wish  to  hear  the  opinion  of  another  before  3'Ou 
decide.  Unkee  will  give  you  his.  Unkee  is  not  an  orator. 
He  is  not  of  many  words.  He  is  more  for  action.  Hear 
his  counsel.  The  pale-face  is  many — the  red-man  is  few. 
Unless  the  red-man  destroy  the  pale-face,  he  will  overrun 
him.  All  should  die.  The  voice  of  Unkee  joins  Posetha's. 
The  pale-face  chief  should  die  now.  First,  because  he  is 
brave,  and  the  more  to  be  feared.  Secondly,  because  the 
spirits  of  our  friends  call  for  his  blood.  TJiey  cannot  rest 
in  peace,  knowing  the  17*  murderer  fills  their  wigwam.'' 

This  last  was  an  argument  so  forcible,  so  conclusive  to 
an  Indian  mind,  that  nothing  but  the  mighty  force  of  habit, 
restrained  the  dark  warriors  from  interrupting  the  speaker 
with  fierce  yells  of  coinciding  opinions.  As  it  was,  their 
faces  instantly  grew  savagely  ferocious ;  their  eyes  gleamed 
like  balls  of  fire  ;  their  nostrils  expanded;  and  their  hands 
nervously  clutched  their  weapons. 

It  was  a  complete  triumph.  A  thousand  words  conld 
not  increase  or  impair  the  force  of  that  single,  smiple  sen- 
tence. Even  Mugwa  seemed  astonished  and  taken  aback, 
as  though  the  idea  were  new,  and  struck  him,  too,  with 
force.  Moody,  with  a  thrill  of  savage  joy,  now  saw  that 
his  end  was  gained.  A  direct  Providence  could  aione  save 
the  victims  of  his  hate  from  their  impendmg  doom. 
Unkee,  too,  saw  that  the  effect  he  sought  w^as  wrought, 


THE    COUNCIL    AND    THE    DOOM.  210 

and  he  v^as   cunning  enongh   to  pause  and    give    it  full 

sway. 

Simply  adding,   "  Unkee  lias  spoken,"  he  resumed  his 

seat. 

No  sooner  did  the  savages  perceive  that  he  was  done, 
than,  springing  to  their  feet,  they  uttered  the  most  terrific 
yells  imaginable — yells  which  went  to  the  hearts  of  the 
prisoners  ;  and  told  them,  alas  !  to  fear  the  worst.  As  for 
Moody,  he  fairly  shouted  with  ferocious  delight,  and 
danced  around  in  a  wild  ecstacy  of  joy.  Revenge  he  felt 
was  in  his  grasp. 

At  length  the  yells  and  rapid  gesticulations  of  the  sav- 
ages subsided ;  after  which  several  minutes  were  occupied 
in  settling  the  time  when,  and  place  where,  the  horrid  rite 
should  come  off,  and  the  manner  in  which  it  should  be  con- 
ducted. After  some  discussion  in  the  Indian  fashion,  it 
was  finally  agreed  that  Stanley  and  Ichabod  should  be  put 
to  the  tortures  on  the  very  ground  where  the  council  had 
been  held  which  had  decreed  them  to  death,  and  in  full 
view  of  all  the  prisoners,  who  would  thereby  be  witnesses 
of  what,  sooner  or  later,  they  would  have  to  undergo  them- 
selves. 

This  suited  the  purpose  of  Moody  exactly ;  and  while 
the  Indians  set  about  preparing  for  the  work  of  death,  he 
repaired  to  Stanley,  to  let  him  know  the  result,  taunt  him 
all  he  could,  and,  in  fact,  enjoy  to  the  full  his  own  hellish 

triumph. 

"  I  have  come,  my  dear  brother,"  he  said,  ironically, 
*'  to  inform  you  what  my  friends  propose  to  do  for  your 
benefit.  Perhaps,  however,  you  can  judge  for  yourself, 
by  simply  watching  their  motions." 

"  I  suppose  I  am  to  be  tortured,"  answered  Stanley, 
compressing  his  lips,  and  slightly  turning  pale. 

^'  Well,  you  have  made  a  very  good  guess,  for  the  first 


220  KATE    CLARENDON". 

one,"  replied  Moody,  with  a  laugh.  "  You  are  about  to 
reap  the  benefit  of  your  obstinacy,  I  assure  you." 

*'  Do  your  worst,"  rejoined  Stanley  ;  "  for  sooner  would 
I  die,  than  sacrifice  the  happiness  of  yonder  maiden." 

"  And  what,  think  you,  you  save  her  by  this  ?  Strange 
fancy  you  have  got  in  your  head,  and  one  which  I  will  now 
remove,  for  your  especial  benefit.  In  the  first  place,  is  not 
the  girl  in  my  power?" 

"I  suppose  she  is." 

"  Well,  then,  what  think  you  it  will  matter  with  me,  or  I 

with  her,  whether  she  refuse  to  be  my  lawful  wife  or  not  ? 
E  cannot  compel  her  to  marry  me,  it  is  true ;  but  I  can 
compel  her  to  do  worse." 

"  Great  Heaven  !  Moody,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  cried 
Stanley,  as  a  vague  suspicion  of  something  terrible  crossed 
his  mind. 

"  I  leave  you  to  judge  what  I  mean,  for  the  present,  as 
I  see  a  w^arrior  coming  to  prepare  you  for  the  trial  that 
awaits  you,"  answered  Moody.  "  When  you  are  burning 
at  the  stake,  and  your  flesh  cracking  with  the  heat,  I  will 
come  and  hiss  my  meaning  in  your  ear." 

Saying  this.  Moody  turned  upon  his  heel,  and  strode 
away  toward  Kate,  while  the  savage  approached,  and,  sim- 
ply giving  a  grunt,  drew  his  knife  and  cut  the  thongs 
which  bound  Egbert  to  the  tree,  but  without  cutting  those 
which  bound  his  hands.  He  then  took  hold  of  his  arm, 
and,  pointing  in  a  significant  manner  toward  the  main 
body  of  his  companions,  conducted  him  away.  All  this  was 
noted  by  the  friends  of  Stanley,  with  feelings  peculiar  to 
each,  but  which  it  would  be  impossible  for  us  to  describe. 

Meantime,  Moody  approached  Kate,  who  stood  bound  to 
the  tree,  her  features  pale  as  death,  and  a  look  of  alarmed 
inquiry  upon  her  sweet  countenance. 

"  Well,"  said  the  outcast,  coming  up,  a  dark  smile  play- 


THE   COrXCIL   AND   THE   DOO?,r.  221 

ing  over  his  sinister  features,"  "you  are  now  about  to  ex- 
perience the  result  of  your  decision.  Look  yonder  !  and 
yon  !"  and  he  pointed  first  toward  Stanley,  and  then  to- 
ward the  savages,  who  were  in  the  act  of  driving  a  large 
stake  deep  into  the  earth. 

"  "What  mean  these  fearful  signs  ?"  asked  Kate,  breath- 
lessly. 

"  Their  meaning,  methinks,  is  very  apparent,"  answered 
Moody.  "  Your  lover  is  about  to  pass  the  ordeal  of  fire, 
on  a  journey  from  which  he  will  never  return." 

"  Oh,  God  !  Moody,  you  cannot  be  so  base — so  cruel !" 
cried  Kate,  in  terrible  agony,  little  heeding  that  she  might 
as  well  have  attempted  to  move  a  savage  to  tears,  as  him 
she  addressed  to  mercy.  ^'  Oh  !  save  him  !  save  him  ! — he 
is  your  brother  I" 

"  Not  if  he  were  ten  times  my  brother,  and  it  were  in 
my  power,"  returned  Moody,  fiercely.  "You  plead  too 
late,  Kate  Clarendon.  Once  I  sought  to  save  him,  on  the 
easy  condition  that  you  became  my  wife.  I  told  you  of 
the  consequences,  if  you  refused,  and  yet  refuse  you  did. 
His  doom  is  now  past  recall.  He  must  die.  And  you," 
added  Moody,  tauntingly,  "  do  not  think  by  this  that  you 
will  escape  me  !  No  !  I  swear  to  you,  your  doom  shall  be 
no  better  than  his !" 

Kate  shut  her  eyes  and  groaned. 

"  One  thing  !"  she  cried,  suddenly ;  "  do  me  one  favor, 
and  I  will  ask  no  more  !  Do  not  let  him  writhe  at  the  stake  ! 
In  mercy,  take  your  rifle;  and— and — (she  paused,  and 
shuddered,  and  her  voice  sunk  to  an  almost  inaudible 
whisper) — and — end — his — misery!"  she  gasped,  at  last, 
with  a  groan. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !"  laughed  Moody ;  "  you  must  have  a  very 
poor  opinion  of  me,  to  think  I  would  condescend  to  save 

19* 


222  KATE    CLARENDON". 


liim  from  his  red  friends  yonder;"  and  again  he  pointed 
toward  the  savages. 

"Farewell,  dearest!"  said  a  deep,  solemn  voice  at  this 
moment,  that  made  the  blood  retreat  to  the  heart  of  Kate, 
leaving  her  agonized  features  bloodless  ;  and  looking  round, 
she  saw  her  lover  being  led  to  his  place  of  torture.  "  Fare- 
well, dearest !"  again  spoke  Egbert,  in  solemn  tones.  "  On 
earth  we  may  never  meet  again  ;  but  in  God  put  your 
trust,  and  meet  me  soon  in  the  land  of  spirits?" 

Kate  could  hear  no  more  ;  but  uttered  one  fearful  screnm 
of  anguish,  that  penetrated  the  hearts  of  all  her  friends, 
and  made  the  brave  young  officer  tremble  as  a  child. 

"You  see!"  said  Moody  coolly,  pointing  toward  the 
already  retreating  form  of  Stanley,  as  his  Indian  conductor 
hurried  him  forward  :   "  You  see  !" 

But  he  was  mistaken  ;  Kate  did  not  see ;  she  had  fainted  ; 
and,  with  a  deep  malediction  on  her  tender  heart.  Moody 
turned  awav,  and  strode  on  after  his  intended  victim. 

By  the  time  that  he  had  come  up  to  the  Indians,  the 
driving  of  the  stake  was  completed,  and  the  savages  were 
already  placing  sticks  around  it.  These  were  put  end-wise 
to  the  stake,  some  few  feet  distant,  so  as  to  form  a  complete 
circle,  and  give  the  condemned  the  benefit  of  a  slow  fire.  To 
the  stake  the  prisoner  was  to  be  bound,  so  as  to  leave  him 
a  little  freedom,  and  then  the  sticks  were  to  be  fired. 

Stanley,  as  he  neared  the  spot,  noticed  all  these  prepa- 
rations wath  a  shudder,  and  with  a  sinking  spirit ;  but 
nerving  himself  with  as  much  stoicism  as  he  could  assume, 
he  inwardly  called  upon  his  Maker  to  aid  him,  and  prepared 
himself  to  undergo  the  trial  before  him  with  manly  fortitude. 

And  a  terrible  trial  it  was  to  one  like  him,  in  the  very 
prime  of  life,  with  every  inducement  to  live — ^just,  too,  on 
the  verge  of  happiness — to  be  thus  snatched  away  from  all 
he  loved  and  held  dear,  and  slowly  tortured  out  of  existence 


THE  COUXCIL  AND  THE  DOOM.        223 

into  the  dread  unknown  Beyond.  But  most  terrible  of  all, 
•was  the  maddening  thought  of  the  dear  one  he  loved,  -vN'ho 
would  be  left  behind  in  the  power  of  the  most  inhuman 
monster  on  earth.  Were  Kate  at  liberty  and  safe,  he  felt 
he  could  die  comparatively  happy.  The  suffering  of  the 
body  alone,  he  fancied,  could  be  borne ;  but  the  suffering 
of  body  and  mind  together,  was  a  something  to  sap  his 
courao-e,  and  make  the  man  a  child.  Xor  was  his  feeling 
of  despair  lessened,  as  he  turned  his  gaze  up — toward  the 
the  glorious  sun — (that  now  ascending  the  heavens,  poured 
his  light  and  warmth  upon  the  great  earth) — then  around 
upon  the  beauties  of  nature  everywhere  displayed  before 
him — felt  the  soft,  balmy  breeze  upon  his  cheek — and  re- 
membered that  he  was  about  to  bid  adieu  to  all  these  bright 
things  forever. 

It  had  been  decided  by  the  Indians,  that  Stanley  should 
suffer  hrst ;  and  therefore  only  one  place  of  torture  had 
been  prepared,  which  was  afterward  to  serve  fur  the  gar- 
dener ;  who,  in  consequence,  still  remained  bound  to  his  tree. 
The  spot  chosen  for  the  horrid  rite,  was  a  little  open  patch 
of  ground,  near  which  grew  a  cluster  of  bushes,  forming 
part  of  a  thicket  that  stretched  away  to  the  Little  Miami ; 
but  not  so  as  to  obstruct  the  view  of  the  other  prisoners — 
it  being  the  design  of  the  Indians  to  have  them  spectators 
of  the  awful  spectacle. 

The  appearance  of  Stanley  upon  the  ground,  was  the 
sio-nal  for  the  savages  to  set  up  a  series  of  horrid  yells,  to 
dance  around  him  in  brutal  triumph,  and  pinch,  beat,  and 
otherwise  maltreat  him,  with  their  hands  and  fists.  This 
lasted  some  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  and  was  borne  by  the 
prisoner  without  a  word  of  complaint.  In  this  savage 
custom,  injustice  be  it  said.  Moody  did  not  join;  but  fold- 
ing his  arms  upon  his  breast,  he  stood  a  little  apart,  re- 
garding his  brother  in  stern  silence. 


224  KATE    CLAEENDON. 


When  thej  had  amused  themselves  sufficiently  in  this 
way,  the  Indians  began  stripping  their  victim  of  his  ap- 
parel, preparatory  to  binding  him  to  the  stake.  First  his 
coat,  then  his  vest,  and  then  piece  after  piece  of  his  other 
garments,  they  tore  rudely  from  him,  and  ^vith  some  of 
them  decorated  their  own  hideous  persons.  As  they  rent 
the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  the  silver  box  presented  him  by 
Luther,  which  had  been  placed  there  for  safe  keeping, 
rolled  out  and  fell  to  the  ground.  In  an  instant.  Moody, 
who  had  so  far  been  only  a  spectator,  sprung  forward,  and 
seized  it  with  avidity. 

"What  is  this?"  he  asked,  turning  it  over  and  over,  and 
noting  with  wonder  the  strange  characters  upon  it.  "  Speak, 
sirrah !  what  is  this  ?"  he  pursued,  addressing  himself  to 
Stanley.  But  the  latter  deigned  him  no  answer ;  and 
muttering,  "Take  that  for  your  silence,"  Moody  struck 
him  with  his  fist  a  violent  blow  upon  the  side  of  his  head, 
and  coolly  hid  the  box  under  his  vestments,  to  be  examined 
at  some  future  time. 

Having  at  length  stripped  Stanley  entirely,  the  Indians 
proceeded  to  attach  him  to  the  stake,  by  means  of  a  rope 
made  of  deer-skin,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  to  leave  him  a 
little  play  round  the  circle,  but  not  enough  to  reach  the  fire. 
They  then  had  another  dance  around  him,  accompanied 
with  horrible  yells  ;  when  a  warrior  suddenly  appeared  with 
a  burning  brand,  and  applied  it  to  the  combustible  pile. 
The  sticks,  many  of  them  being  small  and  dry,  were  very 
ignitable  ;  and  in  a  moment  the  red  flames  shot  upward, 
and  flashed,  and  crackled,  and  crept  around  the  circle, 
until  the  prisoner,  to  those  at  a  little  distance,  appeared 
enveloped  in  fire  and  smoke.  Gradually  t\e  heat  became 
more  and  more  intense,  until  the  position  of  Stanley,  who 
kept  himself  close  to  the  stake,  was  rendered  not  a  littlo 


THE    COUNCIL  AND    THE    DOOTJ.  225 


painful,  and  already  a  few  blisters  began  to  make  their  ap- 
pearance on  his  tender  skin. 

"  Xow  for  the  burnt  powder,"  cried  Moody,  with  a  horrid 
laugh ;  and  pointing  his  rifle  toward  the  naked  body  of 
Stanley,  he  was  already  in  the  act  of  pulling  the  trig-Ter, 
when  suddenly  the  muzzle  dropped  to  the  ground,  and  its 
owner,  turning  ghastly  pale,  stood,  with  mouth  distended, 
and  eyes  half  starting  from  their  sockets,  gazing  in  the 
direction  of  the  thicket,  and  trembling  with  very  fear.  The 
Indians,  too,  suddenly  paused  in  their  savage  rite,  and 
uttering  the  single  word  "  Kitcho-chobeka,"  shrunk  cower- 
ing back,  with  looks  expressive  of  surprise  and  dismay. 

The  next  moment  a  powerful  figure  rushed  through  the 
flames,  and,  cutting  the  bonds  of  the  prisoner,  raised  and 
bore  him  to  a  safe  distance  beyond  the  fatal  circle.  Turn- 
ing with  a  look  of  unspeakable  gratitude  to  his  deliverer, 
Stanley,  to  his  amazement  and  joy,  beheld  in  him  the  tall, 
ungainly,    but    commanding   form    of   Blind    Luther   the 

Necromancer. 
15 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   RESCUE   AND    THE   EXECUTION. 

They  spake  not  a  word, 
But  like  dumb  statues,  or  breathless  stones, 
Stared  on  each  other,  and  looked  deadly  pale. — Shakspeare. 

His  hand  did  quake, 
And  tremble  like  a  leaf  of  aspen  green, 
And  troubled  blood  through  his  pale  face  was  seen 
To  come  and  go,  with  tidings  from  the  heart, 
As  it  a  running  messenger  had  been. — Spenser. 

0  !  how  glorious  'tis 
To  right  the  oppressed,  and  bring  the  felon  vile 
To  just  disgrace  I Somerville. 

Yes  let  the  traitor  die, 
For  sparing  justice  feeds  iniquity. — Shakspeare. 

Without  waiting  to  receive  his  thanks,  and  in  fact 
scarcely  noticing  Stanley  at  all,  Luther  made  a  single 
bound  forward,  and,  seizing  the  trembling  Moody  by  the 
throat,  bore  him  violently  to  the  earth.  Then  hastily  dis- 
arming him,  he  set  his  foot  upon  his  heaving  breast,  and 
shouted  : 

"  Villain  !  thy  hour  has  come  !" 

By  this  time  the  Indians  had  recovered  somewhat  from 
their  astonishment;  and,  seeing  their  intended  victim  at 
liberty,  and  one  of  their  own  party  in  such  imminent 
danger,  began  to  rally  and  collect  around  the  Necroman- 
cer, with  menacing  gestures. 

"  Sons  of  the  forest !"  cried  Luther,  addressing  them  in 
their  own  dialect,  "  away  !  and  leave  the  miscreant  to  his 
fate  !" 

"Kitcho-chobeka  is   great,"    answered   Mugwa;    "but 
"why  does  he  interfere  here  ?" 
(226) 


THE    RESCUE    AND    THE    EXECUTION.  227 

"The  Great  Spirit  is  offended,"  rejoined  Luther, 
solemnly,  pointing  upward.  "  You  have  aided  Wathemen- 
etoc"^  in  his  hellish  work,"  and  he  pointed  downward  to 
Moody.  "  Begone  !  ere  you  behold  the  Great  Spirit's 
anger  I 

The  Indians,  judging  by  their  looks,  were  now  evidently 
alarmed,  but  not  satisfied,  and  loath  to  depart  without 
further  proof  of  the  Great  Spirit's  anger,  through  His 
instrument,  as  they  superstitiously  believed  Luther  to  be. 

"Let  us  have  our  prisoner  and  our  chief,"  grumbled 
Mugwa,   "and  we  will  go." 

"  Touch  one  of  them,"  replied  Luther,  fiercely,  straight- 
ening his  ugly  form  to  its  full  height,  and  rolling  his  rest- 
less eye  from  one  to  the  other  with  an  angry  expression : 
touch  one  of  them  again,  and  perdition  go  with  you ! 
"Watchemenetoc  is  not  your  chief;  he  is  a  devil  in  human 
form.  Away!  begone!"  and  he  waved  his  hand  majesti- 
cally. 

But  still  the  Indians  lingered;  and  thinking  they  might, 
in  spite  of  their  fears,  venture  upon  a  rescue,  Luther 
suddenly  thrust  his  hand  into  his  bosom,  and  drew  forth  a 
ball,  some  three  inches  in  diameter,  which  he  had  previous- 
ly prepared  for  such  an  emergency. 

This  proceeding  was  noticed  by  the  savages  with  deep 
interest,  and  they  would  instantly  have  crowded  around 
him,  had  not  their  fears  restrained  them.  As  it  was,  how- 
ever, they  approached  within  a  few  feet,  and  got  between 
Luther  and  the  fire,  their  eyes  the  while  fixed  intently  on 
the  ball,  which  the  Necromancer,  to  puzzle  them,  now  com- 
menced turning  rapidly  over  and  over  in  his  hands.  This 
was  exactly  what  he  desired ;  and  muttering  some  unintel- 
ligible  words,   and  looking  upward,   as   if  appealing   to 

*  Bad  Spirit,  or  Devil. 


228  KATE    CLAEEXDON. 


Heaven,  he  suddenly,  and  by  a  dexterous  movement,  cast  it 
beyond  them,  into  the  flames,  at  the  same  time  shouting  : 

"  Behold  and  tremble,  ye  sons  of  the  forest,  and  revere 
the  tongue  of  the  Great  Spirit  !" 

The  Indians,  all  amazement,  followed  the  ball  with  their 
eyes ;  and,  as  it  touched  the  fire,  beheld  first  a  red,  and 
then  a  blue  flame  shoot  upward  with  a  hissing  sound.  The 
words  of  the  Necromancer  now  fell  with  startling  effect 
upon  their  ears ;  and  were  scarcely  concluded,  ere  a 
tremendous  explosion  took  place,  which  scattered  the  burn- 
ing brands  in  every  direction,  leaving  the  space  lately 
occupied  by  the  fire  black  and  smoking.  The  brands,  too, 
many  of  them,  striking  against  the  almost  naked  bodies  of 
the  Indians,  increased  their  terror  and  confusion.  Mu£:wa 
and  another  savage  were  knocked  down,  and  all  were  more 
or  less  bruised  and  injured  by  the  explosion.  Springing  to 
his  feet,  the  chief  of  the  Piquas  uttered  a  frightful  yell  of 
terror,  and  darted  toward  the  thicket,  followed  closely  by 
nis  yelling  and  no  less  terrified  companions,  leaving  the 
Necromancer  master  of  the  ground. 

Stanley,  who  had  been  an  inactive  spectator  of  the 
whole,  now  sprung  to  Luther,  and  grasping  him  by  the 
hand,  while  tears  of  joy  filled  his  eyes,  said,  with  emotion : 

"  My  more  than  friend,  my  kind  benefactor,  how  can  I 
ever  sufficiently  thank  you  for  this  timely  interference  and 
preservation  of  my  life  ?" 

"  Egbert  Stanley,"  answered  Luther,  pressing  the  hand 
of  the  young  officer,  "you  owe  me  no  thanks,  nor  do 
I  need  them.  AVhen  I  do  a  good  deed,  I  know  it  is  regis- 
tered there ;"  and  he  slowly  and  impressively  pointed 
upward  ;  "  there — there — beyond  that  sky  of  blue,  where 
I  humbly  hope  and  pray  my  spirit  will  one  day  wing  its 
flight,  and  find  more  good  than  evil  recorded  of  my  doings 
while  a  tenant  here  below.     Here,"  added  Luther,  pointing 


THE    RESCUE    AND    THE   EXECUTION.  229 

downward  to  Moody,  who  as  yet  had  made  no  effort  to  rise  ; 
^'  here  is  a  painful  task  for  me  to  perform.  I  must  yield 
him  up  to  justice.  I  have  said,  and  I  will  do  it,  for  I 
always  keep  my  word." 

"And  he  deserves  it,"  returned  Stanley;  "for if  ever 
there  was  a  black-hearted  villain  on  earth,  he  is  one.  But 
Kate,  and  my  friends — I — " 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  the  report  of  fire-arms ;  and 
w^heeling  suddenly  in  the  direction  of  his  comrades,  whom 
he  expected  to  behold  sinking  under  the  weapons  of  the 
savages,  judge  of  his  astonishment,  on  seeing  them  already 
in  pursuit  of  the  latter,  armed  to  the  teeth. 

"  Good  Heaven  !  what  magic  is  this  ?"  he  cried,  turning 
to  Luther,  all  amazement. 

"  Simply  that  before  I  liberated  you,  I  took  all  means  of 
precaution  to  render  my  work  sure,"  replied  the  other, 
modestly. 

Such  was  the  fact ;  and  an  unusual  negligence  on  the 
part  of  the  Indians,  had  aided  him  most  essentially. 
Feeling  perfectly  secure,  and  not  wishing  uselessly  to 
encumber  themselves,  they  had  placed  most  of  the  weapons 
taken  from  the  whites  in  a  pile  by  themselves,  near  the 
thicket.  While  they  were  intently  occupied  in  council, 
Luther  had  managed  to  get  possession  of  these,  and  dis- 
tribute them  among  their  owners  ;  cautioning  them,  ere 
he  cut  their  cords,  not  to  stir,  unless  they  were  attacked, 
or  heard  a  signal  from  him.  Then  approaching  Kate  in  a 
noiseless  manner,  just  as  she,  regaining  consciousness,  was 
looking  about  her  in  alarm,  he  whispered  a  few  words  of 
hope  and  consolation  in  her  ear,  and  freed  her  also,  with 
the  same  injunction  as  to  remaining  stationary.  This 
done,  he  had  regained  the  thicket,  and  appeared  before  the 
savages  in  the  manner  already  shown. 

Terrified  at  the  feats  of  the  Necromancer,  but  maddened 

20 


230  KATE   CLARENDON. 

at  the  release  of  their  prisoner,  no  sooner  had  the  Indians 
fairly  hid  themselves  in  the  thicket,  than  thoughts  of  ven- 
geance took  possession  of  their  half  crazy  brains,  and  they 
paused  for  consultation.  Under  the  excitement  they  were 
laboring,  this  was  very  short,  and  resulted  in  their  decision 
to  steal  upon  the  bound  prisoners,  tomahawk  and  scalp 
them,  and  return  to  their  homes.  Led  by  the  now 
infuriated  Mugwa,  they  made  a  sally  for  the  purpose  ;  and 
were  bearing  down  upon  their  intended  victims,  when,  sud- 
denly, to  their  unbounded  astonishment,  dismay,  and  terror, 
each  captive  sprung  behind  his  tree,  and  sent  the  contents 
of  his  rifle  among  them.  This,  to  the  Indians,  was  a  work 
of  magic  indeed  ;  and  overpowered  by  amazement  and  ter- 
ror, they  paused  for  a  moment  irresolute.  The  next  tliey 
turned  and  darted  away,  uttering  horrible  yells,  followed 
by  the  whites.  Three  of  their  number  had  been  wounded, 
but  not  so  as  to  prevent  their  flight,  and  in  a  few  seconds 
all  had  gained  the  cover  of  the  thicket.  Into  this  the 
>Yhites  were  prudent  enough  not  to  venture ;  but  turned 
back,  congratulating  themselves  upon  their  fortunate  and 
timely  escape.  The  first  move  was  to  reload  their 
rifles,  and  thus  be  prepared  for  a  second  attack,  in  case  the 
savages  should  desire  to  renew  the  contest — a  proceeding, 
however,  which  was  looked  upon  as  highly  improbable. 
They  then  repaired  to  where  Kate  was  standing,  and 
all  in  a  body  proceeded  toward  the  Necromancer. 

In  their  flight,  the  Indians  had  thrown  away  most  of  the 
garments  taken  from  Stanley ;  who,  hastily  recovering 
these  meantime,  was  now  enabled  to  appear  before  his 
friends  decently  clad.  Seeing  Kate  approaching,  he  made 
one  bound  forward,  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  her 
to  his  heart  in  silence.  The  emotion  of  both  was  too  deep 
for  words.  His  friends  now  crowded  around  him ;  and 
seizing  his  hand,  one  after  another,  they  allowed  their  tear 


THE   RESCUE   AND   THE  EXECUTION.  231 


fill  ejes  to  say  what  their  tongues  had  not  power  to  utter. 
It  was  a  solemn,  but  joyful  meeting. 

"Kow,"  exclaimed  Danvers,  who  was  the  first  to  break 
the  silence,  "  let  us  attempt  to  express  our  gratitude  to  this 
noble  being;"  and  he  pointed  toward  Luther,  who  was 
quietly  standing  a  few  paces  distant,  holding  the  outcast 
Moody  by  a  firm  grasp  upon  his  arm. 

"  Ay,  a  thousand  times  bless  him  !"  cried  Kate,  rushing 
forward  and  kneeling  at  the  feet  of  the  Necromancer. 

"Up,  girl!"  said  Luther,  solemnly.  "Kneel  to  thy 
God,  and  not  to  frail  mortality  like  me." 

"But  we  must  bless  you,  nevertheless,"  returned  Dan- 
vers, grasping  the*  hand  unoccupied,  "  as  the  instrument 
of  the  Almighty  used  in  the  preservation  of  our  lives." 

"Ay  !  ay  !"  cried  several  voices  ;  and  each  proceeded  to 
express  his  thanks  in  his  own  peculiar  way. 

"  God  bless  you!"  said  one. 

"May  you  live  a  thousand  years  !"  said  another. 

"  Forever  !"  put  in  a  third. 

"  May  flowers  ever  lie  in  your  path,  and  the  hand  of  in- 
nocence and  virtue,  and  the  blessings  of  all  who  know  you, 
smooth  the  passage  of  your  noble  spirit  to  the  vale  of 
eternal  Eden!"  added  Kate,  enthusiastically. 

"Enough!  enough!"  rejoined  Luther,  waving  his  hand, 
and  turning  away  his  head. 

As  he  did  this,  his  eye  fell  upon  Moody ;  who,  pale  as  a 
corpse,  stood  trembling  and  abashed,  although  not  one  of 
the  party  had  as  yet  appeared  to  notice  his  presence. 

"Here,"  he  added,  quickly;  "take  him — or  peradven- 
ture  I  repent  and  set  him  free." 

A  howl  of  indignation  escaped  two  or  three  of  the  party, 
as  they  sprung  forward  and  seized  him  roughly. 

"Mercy!"  cried  the  now  terrified  outcast;  who,  since 
the  appearance  of  Luther,  seemed  to  have  become  changed 


232  KATE    CLARENDON. 

entirely,  from  a  reckless,  boasting  bullj,  to  the  veriest  pol- 
troon on  earth.     "  Mercy  !  I  will  repent." 

*'Ye3,  such  mercy's  you  gave,  you'll  git,"  replied  one. 

"And  that'll  be  a  high  tree  and  short  prayers,"  said 
another. 

"Hist!  d'ye  see  an3^thing  ?"  whispered  David,  at  this 
moment,  pointing  toward  Ichabod,  who,  from  some  over- 
sight, had  been  neglected,  and  was  still  bound  to  his  tree, 
patiently  waiting«to  be  set  at  liberty. 

"  Why,  good  heavens  !  there  is  the  gardener,  quite  for- 
gotten," rejoined  Stanley,  taking  a  step  forward  to  release 
kim. 

"  Hold !"  said  David  again,  detaining  Stanley  with  his 
hand. 

The  next  instant  his  rifle  was  to  his  eye,  and,  before 
any  one  could  comprehend  what  it  meant,  the  piece  belched 
forth  its  deadly  contents.  A  cry  of  mortal  agony  now 
rung  upon  the  air,  proceeding  from  a  cluster  of  bushes,  near 
which  Ichabod  stood  bound. 

"You'll  find  him  there  all  right,"  said  David,  coolly,  as 
some  two  or  three  of  the  party  set  off  to  learn  the  result  of 
his  shot. 

On  coming  up  to  the  place,  they  were  astonished  at  seeing 
an  Indian  lying  lifeless  upon  his  face.  Turning  him  over, 
they  recognized  the  grim  features  of  Unkee.  More  blood- 
thirsty and  daring  than  his  companions,  he  had  stealthily 
ventured  hither  to  take  the  scalp  of  his  prisoner ;  but  the 
quick  ears  and  keen  eyes  of  David  had  been  too  much  for 
him,  and  he  had  met  his  fate  in  the  manner  shown. 

Releasing  Ichabod,  the  party  now  returned,  leaving  the 
dead  Indian  to  be  devoured  by  the  beasts  of  the  wilderness. 
The  manner  of  Luther,  as  they  came  up  to  the  others,  ar- 
rested the  attention  of  all.  He  had  turned  his  face  toward 
the  west,  placed  his  hands  over  his  eyes,  and  now  stood 


THE    RESCUE    AXD    THE    EXECUTIOX.  233 


swaying  to  and  fro,  like  some  strong  oak  shaken  by  the 
blast — or,  like  one  whose  mind  is  racked  by  some  powerful 
thought.  No  one  ventured  to  address  him,  and  all  stood 
regarding  him  with  awe  and  silence.  At  length  he  removed 
his  hands  slowly,  and  turned  his  face  toward  the  group. 
Each  started  as  they  saw  that  countenance,  over  which,  in 
so  short  a  time,  had  come  a  fearful  change.  His  dark  fea- 
tures were  pale,  and  seemed  bloodless ;  his  eye  rolled  more 
rapidly  than  usual  in  its  socket ;  the  lid  quivered  more  ner- 
vously ;  and  the  whole  face  was  uncommonly  agitated,  as 
if  by  some  inward  struggle. 

"  It  is  over,"  he  said,  at  length,  in  a  deep,  guttural 
voice,  recovering  himself,  and  assuming  his  wonted  compo- 
sure. "  I  see  you  are  surprised,  my  friends,  to  behold  me 
thus.  There  is  a  cause  for  it — but  that  cause  you  will  never 
know.  My  time  has  now  come  to  bid  you  farewell.  Many 
of  you — perhaps  all — will  never  behold  me  more." 

"Nay!  nay  !"  cried  Egbert  and  Kate,  both  in  a  breath, 
springing  forward,  and  each  grasping  a  hand  of  the  Necro- 
mancer :  "Nay  !  do  not  leave  us  ! — why  should  you  not  go 
with  us,  and  be  provided  for  the  remainder  of  your  days  ?" 

"Ay !  dc  accept  their  offer  !"  added  Danvers. 

Luther  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  it  cannot  be.  I  thank  you  none 
the  less,  however,  for  your  kind  offer — but  it  cannot  be. 
My  road  lies  yonder;"  and  he  waved  his  hand  toward  the 
west,  as  if  to  comprehend  the  whole  great  forest,  which 
then  stretched  over  a  vast  and  unexplored  territory.  "  My 
task  here,  peradventure,  is  ended.  A  restless  something 
within,  tells  me  I  must  go — go — go — till  I  come  to  my  last 
haven  of  rest — the  grave.  Will  you  forget  me  when  I  am 
gone  ?"  he  asked,  with  some  emotion. 

"Never!  never!"  cried  all  together. 

20* 


i 


234  KATE   CLARENDON. 


Luther  remained  mute  a  moment;  and  then  turning  to 
Stanley,  resumed : 

"Remember  -what  I  told  jou  concerning  the  box  !  It  is 
all  important.  When  she  is  thy  wife,  (motioning  his  hand 
toward  Kate,)  then,  and  not  before,  know  its  contents." 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Stanley;  "  I  had  forgotten;  it  is  in 
the  possession  of  Moody;"  and  advancing  at  once  to  the 
outcast,  who  was  still  held  by  the  three  young  men,  he 
took  it  from  him  ;  adding,  as  he  returned  to  the  side  of 
Luther;  "  I  shall  remember." 

"Let  it  not  pass  from  you  again  with  life,"  said  the  Ne- 
cromancer. "  Now,  my  friends,  let  me  bid  you  a  long 
adieu  ;"  and  beginning  with  Danvers,  he  shook  each  by  the 
hand — leaving  Egbert  and  Kate  to  the  last — giving  each  a 
warm  "God  bless  you!"  and  receiving  a  similar  blessing, 
from  lips  that  trembled,  in  return. 

When  he  had  done,  he  strode  up  to  Moody,  and  said,  in 
a  deep,  solemn  voice  : 

"'The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard.'  I  had  hoped 
this  to  be  otherwise — but  a  Higher  Power  has  willed  it  so, 
and  overruled  me.  It  is  enough.  With  a  sad  heart  I  con- 
sign thee  to  the  fate  thou  deservest.  I  have  warned  thee, 
and  spared  thee,  and  given  thee  chances  to  repent — but  all 
in  vain.  Farewell !  we  may  never  meet  again — neither  in 
this  world,  nor  that  which  lies  bej^ond  the  tomb." 

"  Oh  !  save  me  this  time — this  once  !"  cried  the  cowardly 
villain,  imploringly ;  "  and,  by  all  I  hold  sacred,  I  swear  to 
you,  I  will  repent  and  reform." 

"Too  late,"  returned  Luther,  sternly.  "When  last  1 
saved  thy  life,  I  said  I  would  never  interfere  again.  My 
word  I  never  break.  Farewell,  forever  !"  and  he  turned 
away  abruptly. 

Approaching  Egbert  and  Kate,  he  once  more  grasped 
them  by  the  hand,  and  said : 


THE    RESCUE   AND    THE   EXECUTION.  235 

"  'Tis  hard  to  leave  you,  but  I  must  do  it. 

"Tho  stin  of  hope  is  in  the  sky, 
The  angry  clouds  have  floated  by; 
Whate'er  the  past,  remember  this, 
The  future  has  its  store  of  bliss. 

"  Farewell,  till  you  behold  me  again,  either  in  time,  or, 
(he  paused,  and  concluded  impressively)  eternity." 

Without  looking  round,  or  saying  more,  he  now  strode 
steadily  to  the  thicket,  paused  a  moment,  and  then,  parting 
the  bushes  with  his  hands,  disappeared,  from  many  there 
present,  for  the  last  time. 

For  something  like  a  minute,  the  silence  was  unbroken. 
All  were  mute  and  sad,  and  stood  like  statues,  with  their 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  spot  where  the  Necromancer  was  last 
seen. 

"  Come,"  said  Stanley,  ^'  time  wears,  and  we  have  a 
long  journey  before  us.  We  must,  God  willing,  reach  the 
settlement  to-nio-ht." 

a 

"D'ye  hear?"  said  one,  addressing  Moody.  "We've 
got  a  sho4't  job  with  you  first." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Stanley. 

"  Keep  our  oath,"  replied  one.  "We've  sworn  to  hang 
this  villain,  if  ever  we  got  him  in  our  power  agin.  We've 
got  him  now,  and  won't  be  apt  to  forget  it." 

"  Had  you  not  better  take  him  to  some  settlement — to 
Cincinnati — and  have  him  tried  legally  ?  I  cannot  favor 
the  movement  of  taking  vengeance  into  our  own  hands." 

"  It's  no  use  for  you  to  trouble  yourself  'bout  the  matter, 
Lieutenant,  axing  your  pardon!"  replied  David.  "He's 
got  to  die,  that's  the  short  on't ;  and  sooner  nor  he  'scapes 
agin,  I'll  give  him  the  contents  o'  this;"  and  he  held  up 
his  lono;  rifle. 

"  Come,  dearest,"  said  Stanley,  who  savrit  would  be  use- 
less to  parley  longer  with  men  who  had  been  so  deeply 


236  KATE   CLARENDON. 


■wronged :  "  Come,  Kate,  let  us  away ;  we  must  leave  him 
to  his  fate  ;"  and  taking  her  hand,  he  set  forward,  followed 
by  Danvers  only,  the  others  remaining  -with  Moody. 

As  soon  as  the  young  officer  and  his  party  were  fairly 
out  of  sight.  Grant  turned  to  Moody,  and  said : 

"  Come,  wretch  !  down  and  say  your  prayers — if  you've 
got  any  to  say — and  make  'em  short ;  for  the  rope's  ready, 
and  the  tree's  waiting  to  blossom  with  your  carcass.  We'll 
see  you  dead  this  time,  anyhow,  whether  you  come  to  life 
again  or  not." 

Moody,  instead  of  complying,  began  to  remonstrate,  and 
beg  for  his  life ;  which  so  enraged  the  party,  that,  without 
waiting  to  listen,  they  began  to  drag  him  forward  to  the 
thicket,  where  lay  his  dead  Indian  companion. 

"  Here's  company  for  you,"  said  Ichabod  ;  "  and  as  you 
plotted  together  in  this  world,  it'll  be  as  well  for  you  to 
jine  him  straightway,  and  keep  him  company  in  the 
next." 

It  so  chanced  that  a  strong  sapling  was  growing  ex- 
actly over  the  body  of  the  savage  ;  and  laying  hoUl  of  this, 
three  of  the  party,  without  ceremony,  pulled  the  top  down 
to  the  ground ;  while  the  rest  employed  themselves  in  put- 
ting one  end  of  a  rope  round  the  neck  of  the  outcast,  and 
fastening  the  other  to  it.  Then  seeing  that  all  was  fast 
and  ready,  one  of  the  party  said  to  Moody,  whose  very 
teeth  were  chattering  with  terror : 

^'  Now  you're  about  to  reap  the  reward  of  your  crimes." 

"  Mercy!"  gasped  the  guilty  one. 

'•  Git  it  after  death,  then,"  was  the  bitter  reply. 

*'  Ready,  all !     Let  her  go  !" 

At  the  word,  the  sapling  sprung  upward,  nearly  to  its 
former  place,  jerking  Moody  up  with  it  by  the  neck,  and 
there  holding  him,  choking  and  struggling  in  mid  air.  For 
a  few  minutes  the  party  remained,  watching  the  struggles 


THE    RESCUE    AND   THE   EXECUTION".  237 


and  awful  contortions  of  visage  of  the  victim  to  Lynch  law, 
until  thej  gradually  subsided,  and  one  long,  violent  spasm, 
succeeded  by  a  straightening  of  the  limbs,  and  perfect 
quiet — announced  that  the  erring  and  criminal  Moody  was 
still  in  death. 

"  Let's  go  !"  said  David,  briefly,  turning  away  with  a 
shudder  of  disgust. 

No  answer  was  returned ;  but  as  he  left  the  thicket,  he 
found  each  of  his  companions  at  his  heels,  eager  to  quit  the 
place  of  a  sight  so  horrible. 

In  a  short  time  the  party  overtook  the  one  in  advance, 
when  all  pushed  forward  in  a  body  together.  No  questions 
were  asked  concerning  the  fate  of  Moody,  and  no  remarks 
made — each  satisfied,  apparently,  to  leave  the  outcast  to 
his  fate. 

Without  incident  worthy  of  note,  the  whole  company 
reached  the  settlement  that  night,  and  joined  their  anxious 
friends. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


COXCLUSION. 

Mount  on  contemplation's  wings, 
And  mark  the  causes  and  the  ends  of  things; 
Learn  what  we  are,  and  for  what  purpose  born, 
What  station  here  'tis  given  us  to  adorn. — Gifford. 

Within  the  deep, 
SHll  chambers  of  the  heart,  a  spectre  dim, 
Whose  tones  are  like  the  wizzard  voice  of  Time, 
Heard  from  the  tombs  of  ages,  points  its  cold 
And  solemn  finger  to  the  beautiful 
And  holy  visions  that  have  passed  away, 
And  left  no  shadow  of  their  loveliness. — Geo.  D.  Prenticb. 

How  still  the  morning  of  the  hallowed  day — 
Mute  is  the  voice  of  rural  labor. — Graham. 

To  love,  to  bliss,  their  blended  souls  were  given, 

And  each  too  happy,  askod  no  other  heaven. — Dr.  Dwight. 

What  a  mighty  contrast  a  few  years  presents  in  a  coun- 
try just  emerging  from  a  state  of  barbarism  into  one  of 
civilization  and  refinement !  What  a  vast  change  from  the 
old  primeval  forest,  where  the  native  hunters  of  the  wood 
roamed  unmolested  by  civilized  man,  to  the  busy  city,  with 
its  thousand  workshops,  or  the  quiet  hamlet  of  peace  and 
plenty,  or  the  well  cultivated,  open  farm  of  the  industrious 
yeoman !  Where  is  now  the  Indian — with  his  terrible 
war-cry,  his  deadly  rifle,  his  murderous  tomahawk,  and  his 
mutilating  scalping-knife — which  so  troubled  the  peace  of 
our  fathers,  and  made  wailing,  and  wo,  and  terror  among 
the  pale-faces  of  the  frontiers  ?  Where  are  now  those 
tenants  of  the  wood — the  panther,  the  bear,  the  catamount, 
the  buffalo,  the  deer,  the  copper-head,  and  rattlesnake — 
which  had  their  homes  in  the  great  forest  at  the  opening 
(238) 


CONCLUSION.  239 


of  our  story  ?  Where,  too,  are  those  great  forests  them- 
selves, which  stretched  far  away,  from  east  to  west,  from 
north  to  south  ?  Gone — all  gone ;  vanished  as  a  dream  ; 
fled  from  before  the  steps  of  the  white  man,  as  mists  flee 
before  the  advance  of  the  great  luminary  of  day. 

Strangely  have  the  predictions  of  Blind  Luther,  the 
Necromancer,  been  verified  !  The  fifty  years  openin^^  of 
the  nineteenth  century  have  been  pregnant  with  events 
that  have  caused  a  world  to  wonder,  until  wonder  has 
ceased  altogether,  and  man  now  looks  upon  things  beyond 
his  first  comprehension  as  things  which  are  to  be.  The  city 
which  Luther  beheld  in  his  vision,  with  the  eye  of  the 
mind,  is  now  beheld  with  the  naked  eye  of  corporeal  sub- 
stance. The  great  beast  that  was  to  be  formed  from  the 
dust  of  the  earth,  by  the  mechanism  of  man,  with  rolling 
legs,  with  speed  beyond  the  speed  of  the  deer,  and  with 
strength  exceeding  a  hundred  horse — we  now  behold  daily. 
The  great  leviathans  that  were  to  plow  foaming  channels 
in  the  mighty  deep,  rush  against  wind  and  tide,  and  carry 
the  sons  of  earth  in  their  great  bosoms — are  already  upon 
our  waters.  The  red  lightning  from  the  thunder-car  of 
heaven  has  already  been  drawn  and  sent  courier  through- 
out the  civilized  earth ;  and  though  ships  do  not  yet  sail 
in  the  blue  ether  above  us,  and  though  tyranny  still  exists, 
and  liberty  is  not  everywhere  triumphant — yet  we  must 
remember  the  prediction  was  made  for  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury of  which  more  than  half  is  yet  to  appear,  and  we  little 
know  what  may  be  written  in  the  yet  unopened  book  of 
time.  Well  may  we  of  the  present  day  exclaim,  in  the 
language  of  scripture :  "  What  shall  be  the  end  of  these 
things  ;  and  what  the  fiign  of  their  coming  ?" 

In  the  opening  chapter  of  our  story,  we  presented  a  con- 
trast between  the  ancient  and  modern  appearance  of  Co- 
lumbia— wliich,  in  itself,  has  altered  less,  perhaps,  than  in 


240  KATE   CLAREXDOX. 

the  improvements  that  environ  it.  In  place  of  the  rough 
and  serpentine  horse-path,  that  connected  it  with  its  sister 
village,  Cincinnati,  with  here  and  there  a  solitary  traveler 
upon  it — there  is  now  a  broad,  smooth  and  beautiful  turnpike, 
shooting  away  from  a  thronged  city,  through  the  pleasant 
hamlet  of  Fulton — since  sprung  into  existence — and  wind- 
ing round  the  base  of  Bald-Hill,  at  a  height  sufficient  to 
overlook  the  quiet  dwellings  reposing  below,  as  also  the 
broad  plain  so  often  mentioned — over  which  roll  teams  of 
burden,  stages  and  omnibuses  for  travelers,  and  carriages 
for  pleasure ;  while  along  its  side  can  be  traced  the  dark 
lines  of  a  railway,  on  which  to  and  fro  rush  the  "  iron 
horses"  with  great  velocity,  dragging  their  weighty  bur- 
dens over  three  hundred  miles  of  territory,  and  connecting 
this  point  with  the  great  lakes  of  the  north  by  a  journey  of 
only  a  few  hours. 

At  the  precise  spot  where  the  turnpike,  winding  around 
the  base  of  Bald-Hill,  takes  a  more  northern  course,  you 
have  a  delightful  view  of  the  little  knoll  so  frequently  men- 
tioned in  these  pages,  as  the  ground  on  which  stood  the  first 
building  erected  solely  to  the  worship  of  God  by  the 
pioneers  of  the  Miami  Valley. 

This  knoll  is  only  a  few  yards  from  the  base  of  the  hill 
on  which  you  stand,  and  is  a  spot  well  calculated  to  arrest 
the  gaze  of  the  observant  traveler.  In  appearance,  it  much 
resembles  an  Indian  mound,  being  somewhat  oval  and 
smooth.  No  building  now  adorns  it8  summit;  but  the 
ruins  of  one  can  there  be  seen  ;  around  which,  covered 
with  green  sward,  are  scattered  the  graves  of  many  who 
worshiped  within  its  walls  in  times  gone  by ;  whose 
names,  half  obliterated  from  the  crumbling  stones  above 
them,  speak  the  vanity  and  decay  of  earthly  things ;  and 
the  dirge  to  whose  memories  is  now  only  sung  by  the  wail- 
ing wind,  as  it  sighs   through  the  branches  of  the  willow, 


CONCLUSION.  241 


the  beach,  and  the  locust,  waving  above  and  shadowing 
their  last  remains. 

To  this  knoll,  then — not  as  it  appears  now,  but  as  it 
appeared  at  the  time  of  which  we  write,  with  its  neat,  but 
humble,  building  of  worship  peeping  through  the  grove 
that  covered  it — we  must  once  more  call  the  reader's  atten- 
tion ;  and  if  he  like,  he  may  stand  and  view  it  from  the 
self-same  spot  where  but  now  he  viewed  the  tombs  of  many 
who  were  then  in  their  rosy  prime  of  life. 

It  was  a  beautiful  Sabbath  morning  in  the  spring 
of  1792.  All  nature  seemed  rejoicing  and  full  of  happi- 
ness. The  icy  hand  of  winter  had  been  lifted  from  the 
seemingly  desolate  earth,  and  everything  appeared  as 
joyous  as  on  the  departure  of  a  tyrannical  ruler.  The 
trees  had  put,  or  were  putting,  forth  their  buds,  their  blos- 
soms and  leaves,  and  checkering  the  forest  with  that 
beautiful  variety  of  color,  which  renders  it  so  enchanting  ; 
while  the  earth  had  sent  up  her  blade  and  her  flowers  of 
all  hues,  until  her  surface  seemed  a  carpet  too  rich  almost 
to  be  pressed  by  the  foot  of  man.  The  warblers  of  the 
forest  had  already  returned  from  their  journey  to  the  sunny 
south,  and  now  thronged  the  trees,  and  made  "earth  vocal 
with  their  melody."  Already  had  the  husbandman  put 
his  seed  into  the  teeming  earth,"  and  the  result  was 
now  visible  in  broad,  green  squares  of  corn  and  wheat, 
destined,  by  the  process  of  a  few  short  months,  to  be 
greeted  as  the  golden  harvest  of  plenty. 

AYe  have  said  it  was  a  beautiful  Sabbath  morning.  The 
sun,  slowly  ascending  to  the  zenith  of  his  glory,  rolled  over 
an  ocean  of  ethereal  blue,  wherein  not  a  cloud  floated  to 
mar  its  beauty,  or  check  for  an  instant  his  warmth,  or  cast 
a  single  shadow  upon  the  scene  before  us.  A  gentle 
southern  breeze  swept  down  the  hills  of  old  Kentucky, 
rippled  the  bosom  of  the  Ohio,  and  came  up  the  valley, 
16  21 


242  KATE    CLARENDON. 


freighted  with  the  sweets  of  a  thousand  flowers,  bearing  to 
the  ear  the  hum  of  ten  thousand  insects,  and  the  songs  of 
a  thousand  warblers.  Save  these,  all  sounds  were  hushed. 
It  was  Sabbath — the  day  set  apart,  by  Him  who  made 
the  world,  for  rest — and  the  weekly  toil  of  the  husbandman 
had  ceased.  Toward  the  little  sanctuary  so  often  men- 
tioned, a  long  line  of  villagers,  male  and  female,  wero 
taking  their  way,  dressed  in  the  simple  costume  of  the 
time,  with  no  ostentatious  display  of  fashion  to  rank  one 
superior  in  point  of  wealth  to  another.  No  solemn  bell 
was  sending  its  vibrations  upon  the  balmy  air,  to  call  them 
to  the  church  of  God.  They  knew  it  was  the  hour  border- 
ing upon  worship,  and  they  set  forth  from  their  peaceful 
dwelling  places  accordingly.  Among  them  were  all  classes 
— from  the  youth  to  the  grey-beard — from  the  maiden  of  a 
few  summers,  to  the  hoary  matron  v/hose  feet  already 
pressed  the  verge  of  the  grave.  Some  were  grave,  and 
some  were  gay — for  all  of  course  did  not  feel  the  solemnity 
of  the  day — yet  none  behaved  with  indecorum. 

In  the  front  and  rear  of  the  church  were  stationed  senti- 
nels, with  their  rifles  upon  their  shoulders  ;  past  whom  the 
male  portion  of  the  villagers  bore  their  own  arms ;  and, 
ascending  the  little  knoll,  disappeared,  one  after  another, 
within  the  rude  walls  consecrated  to  the  worship  of  the 
Most  High. 

Around  the  door  of  the  church,  however,  a  small  group 
of  youths  and  maidens  lingered,  with  their  eyes  mostly 
bent  in  one  direction,  as  if  expecting  some  person  or 
persons  from  that  quarter.  At  length  one  exclaimed, 
"They  come  ;"  and  the  speaker  pointed  with  his  finger  to 
a  man  of  venerable  appearance,  some  fifty  rods  distant, 
who  was  seen  coming  up  the  valley,  accompanied  by  two 
couple  of  both  sexes.  As  this  party  ascended  the  knoll, 
the  sentinels  they  passed  paused,  touched  their  hats  respect- 


CONCLUSION.  242 


o 


fully,  and  resumed  their  patrol,  while  the  group  at  the 
door  disappeared  within. 

In  a  short  time,  the  last  party  crossed  the  threshold  of 
the  church,  amid  a  profound  silence,  and  were  met  on  all 
sides  by  an  artillery  of  eager  eyes,  from  those  already 
there  assembled.  A  rude  altar  at  the  further  end  of  the 
church,  overlooked  the  rough  benches  in  front,  on  which 
the  congregation  was  seated — and  toward  this  the  ven- 
erable pastor  and  his  young  companions  directed  their 
steps.  At  the  place  mentioned,  the  man  of  God  paused, 
and,  facing  the  assemblage,  raised  his  hands  aloft.  Simul- 
taneously all  rose  to  their  feet ;  and,  after  a  short  silence, 
his  tremulous  voice  was  heard  in  solemn  prayer.  This 
ended,  the  assemblage,  with  the  exception  of  the  pious 
pastor,  and  the  group  which  had  accompanied  him  to  the 
altar,  resumed  their  seats.  Glancing  round  him  for  a 
moment,  the  divine  said:  "Friends,  it  now  becomes  my 
pleasant  but  solemn  duty,  to  unite  in  the  holy  rite  of  mar- 
riage, Egbert  Stanley  and  Kate  Clarendon,  Albert  Dan- 
vers  and  Mary  Argate." 

Saying  this,  he  addressed  himself  to  the  party  before 
him ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  hands  which  were  clasped 
together,  clasped  those  of  partners  for  life.  The  ceremony 
over,  the  newly  married  took  seats  arranged  behind  them ; 
while  the  pastor,  ascending  the  pulpit,  read  a  text  suitable 
to  the  occasion,  from  which  he  delivered  a  most  eloquent 
and  able  discourse. 

On  the  return  of  Kate  from  captivity,  she,  at  the  earnest 
solicitation  of  young  Danvers  and  his  sister,  had  taken  up 
her  abode  in  their  father's  dwelling ;  where,  for  many 
weeks,  she  labored  under  a  strong  nervous  affection,  caused 
by  the  many  exciting  events  which  we  have  chronicled, 
among  the  most  prominent  of  which  was  the  horrible  death 
of  her  mother.     Grief,  violent,  and  some  feared  fatal,  for 


244  KATE   CLARENDON. 


a  long  time  rankled  deeply  in  her  affectionate  breast ;  and 
hours,  and  days,  and  weeks  of  anguish  had  been  appor- 
tioned her.  But  Time,  the  great  healer  or  destroyer  of 
hearts  diseased,  had  gradually  softened  and  soothed  her 
feelings,  and  taught  her  the  folly  of  mourning  so  severely 
an  earthly  loss,  which  a  few  short  years,  at  the  most, 
would  repay  in  the  gain  of  a  never  ending  eternity,  and 
a  meeting  with  those  she  loved,  to  part  no  more  forever. 

Moreover,  all  she  loved  were  not  gone.  Around,  on 
every  side,  she  felt  she  had  kind,  sympathizing  friends, 
for  whose  sake  it  was  her  duty  to  appear  somewhat 
resigned  and  cheerful;  but,  above  all  others,  for  the  sake 
of  one,  dear  and  beloved,  whose  happiness  depended  upon 
her  own,  and  to  whom  she  now  felt  her  heart  drawn  with 
a  peculiar,  sublime,  and  almost  idolatrous  affection,  which 
she  had  never  before  known  for  earthly  being.  She  still 
had  something  to  live  for ;  an  object  to  love,  and  feel  that 
in  turn  she  was  loved;  and  the  thought  of  the  Hving 
gradually  took  the  place  of  the  dead.  Spring  came,  and 
she  was  happy  in  the  embrace  of  one  she  could  call  her 
own  forever. 

Throughout  the  winter,  Egbert  had  remained  in  the  fort 
at  Cincinnati ;  though  his  visits  to  Columbia,  on  one  pre- 
tence or  another,  had  not  been  like  angels'  visits,  "  few  and 
far  between;"  but,  on  the  contrary,  had  been  almost  of 
daily  occurrence.  The  many  mysterious  words  of  Luther 
had  made  a  deep  impression  upon  his  mind.  He  had 
thought  of  them  by  day,  and  dreamed  of  them  by  night. 
Could  they  have  any  meaning  ?  were  they  true  ?  A  thou- 
sand times  had  he  been  tempted  to  open  the  mysterious 
box  in  his  possession ;  and  know  for  a  certainty ;  but  as 
often  a  moral  sense  of  obligation  to  the  commands  of  one 
who  had  so  befriended,  restrained  him. 


CONCLUSION.  245 


«'  I  will  not,"  lie  said  to  himself,  "  until  the  time  set  for 
the  purpose  has  expired,  and  then  I  will  know  all." 

It  ^Yas  late  on  the  evening  succeeding  the  marriage  of 
Stanley ;  and  in  a  rude  apartment  of  a  dwelling,  in  the  vil- 
lage so  often  named,  sat  the  young  officer,  by  the  side  of  a 
table,  on  which  stood  a  light,  throwing  its  gleams  upon  his 
noble  and  manly  countenance,  as,  with  the  chin  resting  on 
his  hand,  he  contemplated  in  silence  several  manuscript 
papers  lying  before  him.  The  door  opened,  and  a  bright, 
fairy-like  being  glided  up  to  his  side,  and  a  soft,  white  hand 
was  laid  upon  his  shoulder. 

Egbert  started,  and,  looking  up,  exclaimed,  in  rapture : 
*'  Bless  you,  my  own,  dearest  Kate— my  wife  \—notu  I 
can  make  you  happy;"  and  as  he  pressed  his  lips  to  hers, 
a  tear  of  joy  stood  in  his  eye. 

"Ah  !  dear  Egbert,"  answered  Kate,  in  a  silvery  voice, 
gazing  tenderly  upon  him,  and  parting  the  hair  from  his 
forehead  ;  "  why  do  you  say  now?  Could  you  not  always 
make  me  happy  ?     Could  I  be  otherwise  with  you  ?" 

"  But  now  more  than  ever !     You  remember  the  words 
and  the  gift  of  Luther,  dearest?" 
**I  do:  the  latter  a  silver  box." 

"  Ay,  and  the  contents  of  that  box  are  now  before  you. 
First,  here,"  continued  Egbert,  taking  up  a  scroll ;  ''on 
this  are  my  horoscope  and  destiny  written.  It  looks  old, 
and  bears  date  1770.  In  it  I  am  styled  Ernest  Bellington, 
son  of  Arthur  Lord  Bellington,  twin  brother  of  Albert  Bel- 
lington, and  grandson  of  Edgar,  Earl  of  Killingworth. 
The  next,  in  like  manner,  is  the  horoscope  of  my  brother, 
since  my  foe,  in  the  person  of  Rashton  Moody.  The  thn-d 
is  your  own,  and  your  destiny  is  marked  to  run  parallel  to 
mine.  But,  most  important  of  all,"  pursued  Egbert,  with 
sparkling  eyes,  ^'  is  this  ;"  and  he  held  aloft  a  parchment ; 
"  this,  which  proves  to  my  satisfaction  my  birthright.' 

21* 


246  KATE    CLAREXDOX. 


"  Oh,  read  it !"  exclaimed  Kate,  Avith  interest,  seating 
herself  by  his  side,  and  looking  fondly  upon  him. 

"A  kiss  first,  my  little  wife.  There  !  now  listen!"  and 
Egbert  began  the  unraveling  of  a  tale  of  mystery. 

The  story  purported  to  be  written  by  Luther  Boreancy, 
otherwise  Blind  Luther.  It  was  long,  sometimes  so  meta- 
phorical as  to  render  the  sense  almost  obscure,  and  was  al- 
together a  remarkable  document.  We  shall  not  follow  it 
in  detail,  but  will  give  the  contents  in  brief,  in  our  own 
language. 

It  stated  that  Arthur  Lord  Bellington,  son  of  Edgar 
Earl  of  Killingworth,  being  an  only  son,  married,  contrary 
to  his  father's  desire,  an  accomplished  lady  of  small  fortune 
and  inferior  birth.  A  quarrel  ensued,  father  and  son  be- 
came estranged,  and  finally,  after  the  birth  of  twin  sons, 
the  latter  determined  to  embark  for  America.  Before  he 
quitted  the  country,  however,  he  took  his  infants  to  a  ma- 
gistrate, and  had  tattooed  in  his  presence,  and  in  the  pre- 
sence of  many  witnesses,  under  the  left  arm  of  each,  the 
armorial  bearings  of  his  house,  and  the  initial  letters  of 
their  names.  Papers,  stating  the  whole  affair,  were  then 
drawn  up,  and  signed  by  all  present,  of  which  a  copy  was 
taken  and  deposited  in  the  archives  of  the  capital.  This 
accomplished,  he  embarked  for  America  with  his  family. 
On  board  the  same  vessel  which  carried  him  out,  was  one 
who  had  made  the  tour  of  the  world,  and  learned  astrology 
and  the  occult  sciences  of  the  Egyptians.  He  was  con- 
sulted, and  he  in  turn  consulted  the  stars,  and  predicted 
the  sudden  death  of  the  young  lord  and  his  lady.  It  came. 
Ship  fever  broke  out,  and  Lady  Bellington  sickened  and 
died.  Lord  Bellington  was  attacked ;  and  on  his  death-bed 
he  called  the  astrologer  to  him,  and  gave  his  infants  into 
his  charge,  with  all  the  proofs  concerning  them,  together 
with  a  large  purse  of  money;  and  begged  that  he  would 


coxcLusiox.  247 


have  them  educated  and  brought  up  separately,  neither  to 
know  of  his  birthright  until  the  Earl  of  Killingworth  should 
be  no  more.  The  astrologer  promised,  Lord  Bellino-ton 
died,  and  the  former  kept  his  word.  By  a  train  of  circum- 
stances useless  for  us  to  mention,  all  came  to  the  West,  and 
the  rest  the  reader  knows. 

Such,  in  short,  was  the  substance  of  the  document  which 
Egbert  now  read  to  his  bride ;  and  accompanying  it  were 
all  the  proofs,  and  a  statement  that  the  old  peer  was  now 
deceased. 

"And  so,  I  suppose,  the  astrologer  here  mentioned,  is 
none  other  than  our  Necromancer?"  said  Kate,  inquiringly. 

"I  infer,  from  what  I  have  read,"  answered  Egbert, 
"they  are  one  and  the  same;  but,  further  than  that,  the 
mystery  seems  as  dark  as  ever.  God  bless  him,  though, 
whoever  he  is !  I  should  like  to  behold  him  once  again, 
whether  mortal  or  spirit !" 

"  Behold,  then !  for  he  is  mortal  and  here,"  said  a  deep 
voice,  close  at  hand. 

Egbert  sprung  to  his  feet,  with  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise, while  Kate  uttered  a  cry  of  terror.  Behind  them 
stood  Luther,  quietly  leaning  on  his  stick  of  witch-hazel ; 
and  the  door,  through  which  he  had  softly  entered,  was 
partly  ajar. 

"Good  heavens!"  ejaculated  Egbert,  fastening  his  eyes 
steadily  upon  Luther,  with  an  expression  of  awe ;  "are  you 
really  flesh  and  blood?" 

"  Feel  and  have  faith !"  said  Luther,  advancing  and  ex- 
tending his  dark  hand  to  the  young  officer. 

Egbert  touched,  pressed  it  in  his  own,  and  replied : 

"  There  is  no  doubting  that.  But  tell  me,  mysterious 
being,  who  art  thou?" 

"  All  thou  knowest  is  thine,"  replied  Luther,  gravely. 
*'What    thou  knowest   not,    is   shut   from   thee   forever. 


248  KATE   CLAPvEXDON. 

Question  no  further.  I  perceive  thou  didst  obey  my  re- 
quest ;"  and  he  pointed  to  the  papers  on  the  table.  *'  How 
lii^e  you  vour  destiny  ?" 

"It  is  better  than  I  ever  hoped  for  in  mj  dreams,"  re- 
plied Stanley,  rapturously. 

"  Wear  "well  thy  honors,  and,  when  thou  art  rich,  forget 
not  the  poor.  Whatever  the  past  may  have  been,  the  fu- 
ture promises  everything.  With  thy  new  fortunes  and 
bride,  thou  must  become  the  envied  of  mortals.  Farewell ! 
I  bid  thee  farev/ell,  and  go  forever  from  thy  sight.  Sweet 
lady,  (turning  to  Kate,)  we  shall  meet  no  more  on  earth. 
I  need  not  tell  thee  to  be  true  and  loyal  to  thy  husband. 
I  make  one  prediction  more.  The  world  shall  yet  praise 
the  wealth,  the  bounty,  the  beauty  and  virtue  of  the  Earl 
and  the  Countess  of  Killing  worth.    iJFarewell !" 

As  he  spoke,  he  turned  and  strode  out  of  the  apartment. 

"  Stay  !"  cried  Stanley,  who  had  yet  many  questions  to 
ask — but  Luther  paused  not. 

Egbert  and  Kate  sprung  to  the  door.  The  moon,  al- 
ready on  the  wane,  faintly  traced  the  outline  of  a  tall 
figure,  gliding  toward  the  wood.  One  moment,  and  it  dis- 
appeared, and  blind  Luther  was  seen  nevermore  by  those 
"who  looked  upon  him  as  a  guardian  angel  and  benefactor. 

Many  long  years  after  these  events,  however,  a  strange 
figure,  answering  his  description,  was  discovered  in  the 
wood  by  an  old  hunter.  He  was  lying  on  his  side,  his  head 
resting  upon  an  old  knapsack.  On  examination,  it  was 
found  that  he  had  been  a  long  time  dead.  On  the  spot 
where  he  ceased  to  breathe,  a  little  rise  of  earth,  and  Uxo 
rough  stones  at  his  head  and  feet,  mark  out  the  last  earthly 
resting  place  of  a  once  mysterious  being.  About  his  per- 
son were  found  some  old  papers,  so  worn  and  soiled  by 
time,  that  the  writing  thereof  was  mostly  illegible.  From 
what  little  could  be  deciphered,  it  was  conjectured  by  somf»«, 


coxcLusiox.  249 


that  he  was  once  a  nobleman  of  distinction,  whom  one  cause 
or  another  had  driven  to  this  country;  and  that,  becoming 
partially  deranged,  he  had  conducted  himself  in  the  manner 
we  have  shown.  Others  believed  him  possessed  of  super- 
natural powers ;  and  there  were  various  opinions  and  con- 
jectures ;  but  all  amounted  to  surmises  only;  for  none  ever 
knew  who  he  was,  or  whence  he  came. 

Soon  after  his  marriage,  Egbert  threw  up  his  commis- 
sion in  the  army ;  and,  with  his  lovely  wife,  and  her  faith- 
ful serving-man,  Ichabod  Longtree,  set  out  for  Ireland,  his 
ancestral  home.  The  old  peer  was  dead,  and  the  young 
lord  had  but  little  difficulty  in  proving  his  identity,  and 
taking  his  place  among  the  proudest  of  the  realm.  A  long 
rent-roll  secured  him  a  vast  income  ;  and  he  lived  in  lordly 
splendor,  the  happiest  of  mortals.  The  Countess  of  Kil- 
lingsworth  proved  a  dutiful  and  loving  wife ;  and  the  old 
Earl  was  heard  in  after  years  to  tell  his  grandchildren, 
he  blessed  the  hour  Avlien  first  his  eyes  beheld  the  fainting 
form  of  the  lovely  Kate  Clarendon. 


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(» 


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T.  B  FETEPSOTT  &  ETtOTKEES'  PUBLIC  ATI  GKS.    3 


MRS.  CAROLIIV6,    L.EK    HKNTZ'S    WORliS. 


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MISS 
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T.  B,  PETEESON  &  BrvOTEEP^S'  PUBLICATIONS,    d 

CHARLES  DICKERS'  WORKS. 

Fourt^^.n  Different  Editions  m  Ortavo  Form. 
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Pickwick  Papers, 60 

Ulckeus'  JVew  Stories,  50 

Bleak  House, 50 

David  Copperfleld, 50 

Dombey   and   Son, 60 

Nicholas  JVlckleby, so 


Baruaby  Rudge,...Pncr  60  c«»ntt 

Old  Curiosily    Shop,....  50  '• 

Skef  cites  by  ««  Boz," 60  " 

Oliver    TavIsI, 50  " 

The  Two  Apprentices,  25  " 
1V>eck   of  the   Golden 

^i«»'y> 25  '• 


Christmas    Stories, 60      "         Perils   of  certain   En- 
Martin  Chuzzlewit.....  50      "      I      gli«u  Prisoners, 25      « 

A  complete  sett  of  the  above  Sixteen  books,  will  be  sold,  or  sent  to  any  o.e  U  «9 
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--•••- 


3 

do. 

4: 

do. 

5 

do. 

6 

do. 

LIBRARY    OCTAVO     EDITION. 

Pnhlished  in  Seven  Different  Styles. 
This  Edition  is  complete  in  SIX  very  large  octavo  volumes,  with  a  Portrait  o»    u^ 
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md  bound  in  various  styles. 

Vol.  1  contains  Pickwick  Papers  and  Curiosity  Shop. 
'♦      3       do.        Oliver    Twist,    Sketches    by    *' Boz  "    and    K*r 
naby  Rudge.  ^  '      *°**    ®*'^" 

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"'ciTifstn^.S^sYo^ni'     ''**"^»'*^     "»-     ^«»'    -d 
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5    T.  B  PETERS02I  &  BROTHEKS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


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I»lcl£\vicl£   Papers. 


Bariiaby  Rudge. 
Old  Curiosity  Sliop. 
Bleak  House. 
David,  Copperfleld. 
Doiiibey  and  Son. 


Cliristmas  Stories. 
Martin  Ciiuzzle-tvit. 
Sketclics  by    <«Boz.*» 
Oliver  Twist. 
Dickens'  New  Stories. 


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— *®»— 


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Christmas  Stories. 
Dickens'    New  Storie*. 


Plckvrlck  Papers. 
Kicliolas  Nickleby. 
David  Copperfield. 
Oliver   Twist. 
Bleak    House. 
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The  stories  in  "  Peters  )n"  are  concr,l,.cl  to  he  t;.-.  heM  /.u'lis/,^,1  unywl,.r»  T'lP 
ertuois  are  Mrs.  Ann  S.  Stephens,  author  of  ".Mary  Derwent,"  "Fashion  an.l  Faniin-  ' 
ripI  (  harl.-s  J  I'eurson,  author  of  "The  old  Stom-  Mausi-n,"  "Kate  Ayl.-sto.d  "  ••  jhn 
\  alley  tarni,"  etc..  etc  ;  and  they  are  assisted  bv  Alice  Carey,  by  iManl;  I.ee  llencb.t 
by  the  author  of '^  Susy  L.'s  Diary  "  by  T  S  .M-lhur.  Iv  L.  {'han'.il-r  Moult-.n  M.lnt,,- 
l-le  lOlyoke,  Virginia  F.  Townsend,  Carry  Stanley.  Caroline  K  Fairheld  Kii,-.)  As)it..n 
Los< he  (,rey.  K  Dewoes,  A.  L.  Otis,  and  all  the  most  popular  female  writers  of  A uurK-a! 
la  adduion  to  the  usual  quantity  of  stories,  there  will  be  given  in  18W),  several 

THRBLLIWC    COPY-RIGHT    NOVELETS 

Equal  in  morit,  at  least,  to  those  for  which  this  Magazine  h.-i-.  already  attain-d  such 
celebrity,  and  superior  to  those  to  be  found  anywhere  else.     MoralityV.nd   Virtue  aro 
always  inculcate,!.     CWgymen  rtra„im-nd  l/nx  .)h<].tziT,e.  partTuhnl',/  f.r  famiUs  ,n 
wliKklhrre  are  daughters.     Its  jiieturial  .•mbellishiiP'iits  are  unrivalled.'    Us^ 
SUPERB  MEZZOTINTS  &  OTHER  STEEL   ENGRAVINGS 

E.\cel  those  in  any  other  .Magazine,  and  one  at  lea.st  is  given  in  every  number     It.^ 

COLORED  FASHION  PLATES  Ml  ADVAKCE. 

4rjtr"  IT   IS   THE   O.XLir    M.VG.\ZINE   whose    F.\SII10.V    PL.^TrS   CAX   I5E    UF.I.IEI)   OX.'tija 

Each  number  contains  a  Fashion  Plate,  engraved  on  steel,  and  colored:  al.so,  a  doz-u 
or  inore. New  Styles,  engraved  on  wood:  also,  a  i'attern.  from  which  a  Dre.ss.  Mantill.v. 
or  (Jiild  9  t  ostume  can  be  cut,  without  the  aid  of  a  mantua-malier— »o  tLat  each  N  uuv  er 
in  this  way.  will  S.VVK  A  YK.XU  S  SUHSCHII'TIO.V.  The  I'ari.s,  London.  ]'hil"uMphia 
Biid  New  \  ork  I-ashions  are  descrii  ed  at  length,  each  monih.  Kngravings  of  new  ..tyle.i 
of  Caps.  Donnets.  IKadliressrs,  .Mantillas,  Cloaks,  Capes,  Under-Uarment.i,  ic.  ice. 
given  lu  great  prolusion  in  every  number.  v. ,  a,i,., 

COLORED  PATTERNS  IN  EMBROIDESY. 

The  Work  Table  department  of  this  .Mag.azine  IS  WHOLLY  UXIUVALLKD  Kvery 
^ umber  contains  a  dozen  <n-  more  patterns  in  every  variety  of  Fancy  work-  Crochet 
Embroidery  Knitting.  Ue.ad-work.  Shell-work,  Uair-work,  Wa.x  Flowers,  Stained  <ilas«' 
Leather-«ork,  Painting.  Photographs,  kc,  &c,  with  full  (le.scr>pti<>ns.  Every  i\umb,r 
CoMtainsa  SUP£«B  COLORED  PATTEHN  FOR  A  SLIPPER  PURSF  CHAIR 
^f  m"*";  *''■«""'«' "f'""'"  ns*'fiil,  or  ornamental  article,  and  each  of  these  would' co:,t  at  a 
retail  store,  I-ilty  cents;  these  can  bv  hud  in  no  other  American  Mayuzin". 

J^IST    OR,ia-IJNrA.IL.    COOIv-BOOI^. 

Will  also  be  given  in  1860.  In  aildition.  other  receipts  for  the  kitchen,  for  housekeepins 
In  general,  for  invaluU,  for  making  cosmetics,  Ac  ,  Ac,  will  be  given  =n  every  Number 
M.tg'l\  PIECE  OF  NEW  ANO  FASHIONABLE  MUSIC  WILL  APPEAR 
h  A  CH  IViONTHAls.s  hints  fn-  tli<,  T..ilette,  Etiquette,  and  all  mutters  inteiestiug 
to  Ladies.     TRY  IT  FOa  ONE  YEAR ! 


TERMS 
Cne  Copy  for  One  Year,  -    $2.00 
Three  Copies  tor  Ouo  Year,    5.00 
Five  Copies  for  One  Year,       7.60 


ALWAYS    IN     ADVANCE: 

Eig'ht  Copies,  One  Year,  610.00 
Twelve  Copies,  One  Year,  16.00 
Sixteen  Copies,  One  Year,   20. (jO 


I  RKMiujrs  FOR  Gettixq  UP  Clcbs.  Three,  Five,  Eight,  Twelve,  or  Sixteen  copies  m.-i  ce 
a  (  lub.  Jo  every  person  getting  up  a  Club  of  Three,  and  ivmittin:;  Five  lyoliars;  or  a 
tlubot  l-ivo.  and  remitting  Seven  Dollars  and  a  half:  or  a  Club  of  Kight.  „nd  i..,.i,t. 
tir.g  Ten  Dollar;* :  we  will  s^-nd;  gratis,  our  two  splendid  .MEZ/UTINTS  of  \1A(J  \K  A 
To  t  /ery  person  getting  up  a  Club  of  Twelve,  and  remitting  Fifteen  Dollars  we  will  send 
either  an  extra  cojiy  of  the  Magazine  for  IhGO,  or  th^  two  splendid  Mezzotints  of  Nia-ara, 
ss  the  getter  up  may  prefer.  To  every  person  getting  up  a  Club  uf  Sixteen,  and  remit- 
li!\g  iwenty  Dollars,  we  will  send  the  two  splendid  Mezzotints  of  Niagani,  and  also  an 
extra  copy  for  I860.    The  Mezzotints  are  each  12  inches  by  25. 

Address,  post  paid,  CHARLES  J.  PETERSO?^. 

306  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia. 
9^X11  Poatmaatera  constituted  Igeata.    A  Specimen  8«it  vrhea  di«lred. 


I 


